


Little Prince, Kneel II

by DragonGirl87



Series: LPK-verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Collars, Discipline, Dom Drop, Dom Harry Potter, Dom/sub, Double Anal Penetration, Established Relationship, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Head Auror Harry Potter, Intimacy, Japanese Rope Bondage, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, Love, M/M, Magical BDSM, Non-Sexual Bondage, Not Epilogue Compliant, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Possessive Harry Potter, Power Play, Praise Kink, Protective Harry Potter, Punishment, Riding Crops, Romance, Romantic Harry Potter, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Sensation Play, Sequel, Shibari, Spanking, Sub Draco Malfoy, Subspace, Sup drop, Teddy Lupin was Raised by Harry Potter, Top Harry Potter, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2020-10-25 22:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 222,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20731499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87
Summary: A year has passed and Harry's and Draco's relationship is still going strong. They are happily in love, their bond is stronger than ever. Or is it? Could it be that everyone suddenly seems to have an agenda? Just how are Harry and Draco going to cope with everyone's opinions?





	1. Spicing It Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CoffeeBean13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeBean13/gifts), [Easy4Weasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Easy4Weasley/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Little Prince, Kneel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462467) by [DragonGirl87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87). 

> Well, folks, due to popular demand and the incredible love I've received for the original **"Little Prince, Kneel"** story, I've decided to give you more. It's time to meet your favourite Dom, Sir Harry Potter, and his beloved little prince, sub Draco Malfoy.
> 
> Brace yourself for another rollercoaster ride and plenty of fabulous scenes from their life together.
> 
> #Writober2019
> 
> _Thirty-one prompts in thirty-one chapters. Thirty-one glimpses into Harry's and Draco's lives._
> 
> That was the original plan, the boys vetoed, Caleb threatened a rough spanking (not that I would mind!) and so here we are: It's been a little over two years since they got together and I'm so excited to go back to writing about these two characters.
> 
> I have a great storyline in mind and I expect to produce a lovely multi-chapter long story.
> 
> Phew, what a complicated thought process that was...
> 
> POVs will alternate between Harry and Draco; however, there won't be any weird jumps in the timeline, and all events will happen consecutively. I will most definitely mention things that happened in the original LPK. You may also get a closer look at the life of Master Charlie and his slave Liam, and, of course, Sir Caleb Reid and his darling other half, sassy bratty sub Stefan Vallee.
> 
> Please note that this sequel will make little to no sense to you if you haven't read ["Little Prince, Kneel"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462467).
> 
> If you have an extremely vivid imagination, you may be able to guess certain things, but many references and reactions will be hard to understand.
> 
> I may provide you with links for further reading if I feel that it may help you to understand certain BDSM-specific references, scenes, etc. You're welcome to check these out or ignore them, entirely up to you.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the sequel as much as the original story.
> 
> Love,  
Selly
> 
> P.S. **K**, since you will once again be my sanity and my muse and will do your utmost best to keep me on track, I'm dedicating this story to you. LPK was brought to life because of you and it continues to live on because of how wonderful you are. Thank you for everything you've done for me and continue to do for me, I love you a lot. You're the bestest brother anyone could ask for, a natural twenty really!

* * *

* * *

“Are you absolutely sure about this, my little prince?”

Harry murmured the question directly into Draco’s ear, pressing his lips gently against the outer shell as he spoke.

Draco reacted like he always did. It was a natural response, not a conditioned reaction to stimuli. He visibly melted at the soft vibrations, hummed softly and relaxed fully into Harry’s embrace. His eyes remained closed, and a little content smile curved his lips upward.

Harry knew that Draco loved the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin around his ear and along his neck. It was one of Harry’s favourite places to tease and torment. Sometimes he peppered it with countless of kisses, and other times he covered the area in bitemarks and sucked until the skin turned a deep shade of purple and Draco moaned and writhed beneath him, lost in the throes of his pleasure.

Tonight, Harry kissed Draco’s earlobe lightly and flicked his tongue over it, then quietly reminded Draco that he still owed him an answer.

Draco slowly opened his eyes and looked at him through their reflection in the floor-length mirror of their bedroom. His silvery-grey eyes gleamed, and there was a spark of pure joy in his eyes, yet at the same time, Draco also looked incredibly vulnerable. It ignited something fierce inside of Harry and his desire to protect and cherish Draco overruled all others.

“Yes, Sir. I want this.”

Draco’s softly spoken response was music to Harry’s ears, and he ran his fingers along the tight hemp rope that presently ran across Draco’s chest. The vibrations of Harry’s light and deliberately teasing touch caused Draco to shudder. He whimpered softly and smiling, Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s neck to tempt him a little further.

They’d only recently switched from jute to hemp, and the different texture of the rope was something Draco was still getting used to. It didn’t diminish his burning need to be bound in Harry’s ropes though.

Smiling, Harry continued to trace the rope restraints that hugged Draco’s chest tightly, keeping him bound. He’d spent the last thirty minutes creating a Shibari masterpiece with one long string of exquisite hemp bondage rope, he’d purchased especially for Draco.

The diamond-shape full-body harness, Harry had created, looked absolutely divine and with Draco’s pale skin as a backdrop, the dark grey colour of the rope stood out beautifully. Harry instinctively and possessively tightened his arm around Draco’s waist and continued to run his fingers along the six-millimetre-thick hemp rope, causing it to vibrate in all the right place.

He’d purposefully tied the rope right across Draco’s nipples, and Draco’s cock and balls sat snuggly between two diamond knots. One knot placed pressure against the base of Draco’s cock, while the other knot rested snuggly just behind Draco’s balls. The continued influence of the rope and its tightness would most definitely provide Draco with some delightful friction each time he took a step forward, sat down or stood up.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my gorgeous little prince, do you know that?”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco blinked, and his cheeks turned a marvellous shade of light pink as they flushed in response to Harry’s praise. He briefly averted his eyes and pressing another kiss to Draco’s neck, Harry clicked his tongue in a gentle reprimand.

“No, look at me, my love. You’re stunning like this. I love seeing you in my ropes.”

Draco whimpered softly but dutifully lifted his gaze to meet Harry’s.

“That’s my good boy.”

Harry praised Draco’s obedience and stepping around him, he stood directly in front of him and brought his hand up to caress Draco’s cheek.

“You’re so beautiful, my little prince, and so sexy. I’m not going to be able to think straight knowing that you’re wearing my ropes underneath your clothes, do you know that? I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you for very long. I’ll be thinking of all the things I could do to you while you’re bound like this. For example, I could easily slip a pair of nipple clamps under those ropes, restrain your wrists to the bed, blindfold you and then run my wand along every inch of those ropes. You’d feel every tremor, every single vibration. Your beautiful nipples would be so hard for me, and your cock would be dripping. I think you’d beg me to touch it, wouldn’t you? You’d beg and plead for me to fist your gorgeous hard cock and tease your tight little hole, perhaps even fuck you while you’re wearing these ropes. Or maybe you’d prefer if I just admired you and told you how beautiful you look and what you do to me. Hm? What would you like, my gorgeous little prince?”

Draco’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and he bit the corner of his bottom lip. He let out a low moan, and Harry smiled.

“Whatever you desire, Sir. I submit willingly, and I trust you.”

“Such a good boy, I love it when you’re like this when you give me free rein to do as I please with your body and mind, knowing I’ll never take things too far.”

“Only for you.”

Draco whispered the words into the small gap between them, and Harry nodded in silent agreement.

“Yes, my love, only for me. That part of yours will forever be mine to treasure. Now, please tell me, how do you feel? Are the ropes too tight or can you take it?”

Draco took a moment to consider the question. He shifted a bit and adjusted his stance, then smiled shyly.

“I feel good, Sir. The ropes aren’t too tight, they’re just perfect.”

Pleased with Draco’s honest response, Harry inclined his head in approval. He’d taken his time with the creation of the harness, wanting to make sure he got it absolutely right, but Harry wasn’t the one wearing it, and as such he relied on Draco’s feedback to let him know how he felt.

“I know we practised this, but you will be wearing the ropes for much longer than you ever have. I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me when it gets too much. Tell me right away, even if it’s just a bit unbearable. Do not play the hero, it will not please me, you know that. This is supposed to be fun for the both of us, but the moment you stop enjoying yourself, the fun stops for me too.”

Draco smiled softly.

“I know. I promise I’ll tell you if it gets too much, Harry. I won’t pull any stunts; you have my word.”

“Good, very good, my perfect little prince, you’re wonderful. One more thing, and yes, I’ve mentioned this as well, but I absolutely will repeat myself. These things need to be said often and repeatedly. Depending on how you move or stand, people will notice the outline of the ropes beneath your shirt and they will know that you’re wearing a harness. They are unlikely to point it out to you, and you said you can handle it, but I need to hear you say it one more time.”

“I admit it’ll be weird, but I think I can handle it. If I can’t, I’ll let you know immediately. It’ll either be our agreed hand signal or my safeword, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“You really are my perfect little prince,” he said.

Draco’s blush intensified once more and Harry leant in to capture his lips in a soft kiss, which he gradually deepened until his tongue had found its way into Draco’s willing mouth. He let it dance around Draco’s tongue, delighting in teasing him and only pulled away after several long minutes of heated kissing and when they both struggled to fill their lungs with adequate amounts of oxygen.

“Will you leave the top two buttons of your shirt undone and wear my grey collar, my love?”

He whispered the question against Draco’s lips, then pulled back and thoroughly enjoyed the dazed expression on Draco’s face. It took him a moment to gather himself, and he closed his eyes, inhaled, then slowly opened them, and exhaled.

“Yes, Sir,” he breathed.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Draco lowered his head in obvious surrender, and a jolt of excitement caused Harry’s chest to swell with pride.

It had been nearly two years since Draco had first submitted to him, but each time he did, it felt like he was doing it for the very first time. Harry truly treasured Draco’s gift, and he never missed an opportunity to tell him so.

“I love you, my little prince, you’re breath-taking.”

Draco let out a soft whimper and bring his hand up, Harry let his fingers run through Draco’s hair and then summoned the light grey wild leather collar, he’d placed on top of the bed earlier.

It flew over to him and catching it with ease, he gently fastened it around Draco’s neck, making sure that it fitted perfectly. When he was confident that it was neither too tight nor too loose, he drew the outline of an ancient rune onto Draco’s shoulder and locked the collar into place with a mumbled incantation.

Harry leant in to place one last kiss on Draco’s lips, then took two steps back and waited patiently for Draco to stop staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

He eventually turned his head slightly, and as he focused on him, Harry smiled.

“Get dressed, my love, then meet me in the kitchen.”

Draco nodded and turning on his heel, Harry left their bedroom without a backward glance.

Since he rather enjoyed watching Draco, naked or otherwise, it took a fair bit of effort, but he managed to concentrate on the evening that lay ahead instead of fantasising about Draco putting on the clothes Harry had chosen for him.

He headed downstairs and making his way into the kitchen, he got started on preparing two cups of espresso for them to enjoy before they left the house.

A few months ago, they’d met Malcolm and his partner Andrej for coffee at a small coffee shop near Kensington Gardens, and Draco had instantly fallen in love with the espresso machine at the café.

He’d waxed lyrical about it for weeks, refusing to drink any other espresso, and unable to resist the temptation to surprise Draco with his very own espresso machine, Harry had returned to the coffee shop to ask for more information.

The shop’s owner had been kind enough to put him in touch with the Italian vendor, who supplied the machine, and after a whole month of eagerly awaiting its arrival and making sure the courier dropped it off at a time when Draco wasn’t home, it had finally arrived a few weeks prior.

It had taken Harry a whole afternoon and a plethora of swear words to assemble it correctly, and when Draco had returned home from the Ministry that evening, his jaw had all but dropped to the ground. He’d stood in the kitchen doorway, looking flabbergast and had spent a whopping ten minutes grappling for the right words. Harry still felt intensely gratified over the knowledge that he could render Draco speechless by gifting him an original Italian espresso machine.

Harry chuckled to himself at the memory. Prior to that afternoon, he’d been convinced that it took a sensual spanking, edge play, a bit of teasing praise, or a box of expensive chocolates to rob Draco of his ability to articulate himself properly ― though occasionally a gag also worked ― but apparently unexpectedly receiving a espresso machine from his boyfriend had the same effect on Draco.

After another few minutes of admiring every inch of his new toy, Draco had, in his excitement, thrown his arms around him, and kissed him deeply. The snogging fest had ended with a steamy round of sex on the kitchen counter, and Harry had to resolutely push the memory out of his mind to stop his body from reacting to it.

He had no intention of spending all evening with a raging hard-on, although realistically and given the fact that Draco would be wearing his ropes concealed underneath his clothes, chances of not getting aroused were slim.

Caleb had invited them to a special event at the club, and once Draco had found out that they were going to attend a rope bondage party, he’d expressed the idea of wearing a body harness in public.

The boldness of Draco’s request had slightly surprised Harry, but after a long conversation about all the pros and cons of it, he’d decided to indulge Draco. It hadn’t taken him long to come up with a plan to get Draco used to the idea of wearing a tight body harness for several hours. They’d practised for a few weeks, gradually increasing the length to time Draco spent wearing the harness, and Draco had responded exceptionally well to the ropes.

In fact, he had thoroughly enjoyed himself, but Harry still worried.

Deep down, he knew Draco well enough and didn’t expect there to be a problem, but he was also aware of the fact that while they intended to spend the evening surrounded by friends, there would also be strangers and they would be able to see the harness underneath Draco’s shirt. Harry had initially offered Draco a loosely fitting long-sleeved shirt, but Draco had taken one dark look at it, scowled, and threatened to set the offending item of clothing on fire to disappear it for all eternity.

Apparently, a casual jumper wasn’t good enough for a party. It didn’t matter that it concealed the harness entirely; Draco refused to be seen dead in a jumper he wore to lounge around the house.

Harry hadn’t even tried to convince Draco otherwise. He’d been tempted, but after Draco told him that he would wear whatever Harry chose for him, all rational thought had fled from his brain. There was nothing Harry could say to that; all of Draco’s acts of submission, no matter how small, meant the world to him and he cherished each time he was allowed to pick Draco’s outfit.

Outside of play or at home it wasn’t a regular thing between them, so whenever Draco surrendered that power to him, Harry caved ― always. The gift of submission was his Achilles’ heel, so to speak.

“I’m ready, Sir.”

Draco’s voice pulled Harry out of his musings and turning around, he found Draco standing in the kitchen doorway, looking positively edible. He was fully dressed, yet there was something about him that instantly took Harry’s breath away, and it wasn’t just one particular thing either, but a combination of many things. It was the way Draco carried himself, with an air of refined elegance. He wore his light grey collar proudly and like the gift that it was, and despite the harness, Harry had tied around his torso and fastened between his legs and buttocks, he moved as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Stunning, just stunning,” Harry said.

He gave Draco a highly appreciative once-over. The pair of black tailor-made chinos, he’d chosen earlier, fitted Draco like a glove and the light-grey button-up shirt complimented both the trousers and the collar perfectly.

Draco smiled.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Harry beckoned Draco over and offered him a small cup of freshly-made fragrant espresso.

“How do you feel?”

Draco inhaled deeply, and his eyes gleamed. He took a sip of his coffee but held Harry’s gaze over the rim of his espresso cup.

“I feel good,” he answered.

Harry nodded.

“How are the ropes?”

“Tight enough for me to feel them when walking but not tight enough to make them uncomfortable.”

“Good. Do you think you’re ready for tonight?”

Draco smiled.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Sir. I’ve nothing to compare this to. Tonight, I’m jumping into the deep end of the pool.”

“And that even though you still don’t know how to swim, how very bold of you.”

Draco chuckled.

He finished his espresso and set the empty cup down on the kitchen counter.

“Or insane. That depends entirely on how you look at it.”

Harry laughed.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I promise to jump right after you and rescue you.”

Draco grinned, displaying two rows of perfectly white, straight teeth.

“Sir, you truly are my knight in shining armour.”

Harry smiled fondly.

“Anything for my gorgeous little prince.”

Draco’s cheeks pinked just a little, and with a cheeky wink, Harry finished his own espresso. He wandlessly levitated both their cups into the kitchen sink, filled them with water and chose to leave them there for later.

“Ready?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

Harry offered Draco his hand, and the moment Draco took it, Harry pulled him close, wrapped an arm around him and concentrate on the dark alley near Pandora’s Box. From there it was less than a five-minute walk to the entrance of the club. The familiar pull of Apparition pulled at Harry’s navel and keeping a tight hold on Draco, as they both swirled through the air, they left Grimmauld Place behind and elegantly landed in the secluded backstreet a few seconds later. They smiled at each other and straightening up a little, Harry laced their fingers together, and they headed straight for the club.

The DM at the door greeted them both with a wave, pushed the door open and ushered them in. Instead of heading downstairs into the dungeons, they made their way upstairs to the first floor and walked down the corridor to the Sapphire room.

The door stood wide open, and Draco respectfully waited for Harry to take the first step over the threshold before he followed him into the room.

“Potter, Malfoy! Only took you half a lifetime. Let me guess, you just couldn’t keep your hands off each other and had to do the dirty before coming over.”

Caleb approached them from the bar, grinning broadly. Stefan trailed behind him but smiled just as enthusiastically.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Crude, Reid, you’re just crude,” he said with a chuckle.

Caleb thumped him on the shoulder and extended a hand towards Draco, offering it to him to shake. Draco took it, and they shook hands. As they did, he took the liberty to correct Caleb about the reasons for their slightly delayed arrival.

“If you must know, Reid, Harry and I had some espresso before we left.”

Caleb’s smirk turned positively dirty.

“Espresso, huh? Is that a new euphemism for quick, hot, and dirty?”

Harry groaned.

“I swear, C, do you ever think about anything other than sex?”

Caleb laughed.

“Sure do, just not when you two are around.”

Draco pulled a face.

“Honestly, Reid, if your wank fantasies include Harry and me having kinky sex, I really don’t want to know.”

Harry tried biting his lip to suppress his laughter but failed spectacularly.

Caleb winked at him, then gave Draco a quick once-over.

Harry could tell that Caleb had spotted the full-body harness underneath Draco’s shirt, but instinctively knew that Caleb wouldn’t comment on it. He also wasn’t worried that Caleb might joke about it as that went against everything Caleb believed in. There were crude jokes and cheeky remarks and then there was a kind of kink-shaming and the latter was something that resulted in Caleb instantly seeing red. It was his trigger, and over the years, he’d fought hard to rid the local community of anyone who thought kink-shaming was acceptable. Caleb had a standard, and he expected everyone in the community to follow a standard code of honour and respect. If they didn’t, they quickly found themselves in Caleb’s bad books and that was a place nobody wanted to be in. Caleb had a reputation and a lot of experience, and many within the local community looked up to him and accepted him as one of their mentors.

“I don’t need to wank, Drake, I’ve got a very obedient pet to take care of all my needs,” Caleb said, and as he spoke, he placed an arm around Stefan’s shoulders, pulling him close.

Stefan wrapped his arms around Caleb’s waist and snuggled into his embrace and Harry smiled at their openly affectionate behaviour. He squeezed Draco’s hand lightly, and when Draco turned his head slightly, they both exchanged a quick look, then Harry turned away to glance around the function room.

“Where’s Charlie?” he asked.

Caleb shrugged.

“He phoned earlier to say he’d be late. Some sort of emergency just outside of London. Couldn’t really understand much over all the noise in the background. To be honest, it sounded like a riot was about to break out.”

Harry barely managed to contain his smirk and Draco actually sniggered. If only Caleb knew that Charlie’s job entailed the preservation and taming of magical dragons, but that was a conversation neither of them would ever have.

“Liam’s here though,” Stefan interjected. “He’s over in the lounge area talking to Ruby.”

“I’ll go say hi, if that’s alright with you, Harry?” Draco said.

Harry nodded and let go of Draco’s hand. He watched him walk across the room and swallowed hard when his mind supplied him with a series of delectable images of Draco’s body harness and the way it moved underneath his clothes, teasing him in all the right places.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question and smirked.

“Congratulations,” he said.

Harry smiled.

“Thanks, took a bit of practice but he’s enjoying himself.”

Caleb nodded.

“First time?”

“Yes.”

“Make sure to keep an eye on him, just in case. These things occasionally do go pear-shaped.”

“I will,” Harry said.

“Good man. Now, join me for a drink?”

“Only if it’s not some super-sweet cocktail concoction.”

Caleb grinned.

“Nope. How about a Gin and Tonic without the gin?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“How about a Mojito without rum?” he mocked.

Stefan giggled beside Caleb.

“Sounds good, A round of Virgin Mojitos it is then,” Caleb said, firmly ignoring Harry’s jab at the club’s no-alcohol policy for any events and parties that included any form of play, even if it was just a show scene.

The three of them headed for the bar, and while Caleb ordered, Harry perched himself on the edge of one of the leather-patted bar stools. He had an unobstructed view of the lounge area and smiled when he spotted Draco, who was engaged in an animated conversation with Liam and Ruby.

It was as if Draco could feel his eyes on him and less than a minute after Harry had sat down, he turned his head to the bar and looked over. They exchanged a smile and Harry used a hand signal to check in on Draco, asking him how he felt. Draco grinned and gave him the thumbs up. Relaxed and relieved, Harry turned his attention towards Caleb and Stefan but kept some of his focus on Draco, just in case. He wasn’t worried per se, but he was responsible for Draco, and he took that privilege very seriously.

* * *

* * *


	2. Ministry Fundraiser With A Twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I tried my very best to control the length of this chapter and I am realising that it's probably not going to be possible to post a chapter a day since I do have a full-time job. I think we all know that I am using #Writober2019 as an excuse to write this sequel, but I don't think you mind all that much, do you?
> 
> In any case, the prompt for this chapter was **"dancing"** and I think I've managed to include it in the chapter just fine.
> 
> I have the perfect little tale in mind for this sequel. I started this sequel blind, thinking I'd gift you thirty-one separate glances into Harry's and Draco's life together but now I have a great story idea and I'm really excited to share it with you.
> 
> Thank you for your continued support on this story, you are absolutely wonderful.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Draco absentmindedly toyed with the piece of dark grey hemp rope; Harry had tied around his wrist a few days ago.

Harry had sealed the two ends of the short string of rope with a locking spell, effectively turning what had once been bondage rope into a simple bracelet. It was a small and inconspicuous token to remind Draco of how well he’d mastered his first public outing while wearing a concealed full-body harness. Draco had thoroughly enjoyed the experience; it had been something new and exciting.

There’d been a moment when he’d nearly convinced himself he’d have to ask Harry to cut the rope. When he’d told Harry so, Harry had immediately whisked him away to a small room, adjacent to the function room. He’d closed and locked the door with a simple spell and once alone together with no chance of being disturbed; he’d helped Draco to focus. It had been surprisingly easy, and Draco credited the fact that Harry knew him exceptionally well for that.

Draco smiled at the memory. His fingers gravitated towards the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. He could feel the steady beat of his heart, working tirelessly to pump oxygen-enriched blood into every part of his body.

Harry’s habit of repeatedly circling his thumb over his pulse point always helped him to calm down and relax, especially when he was nervous or worried about something or other.

The gentle touch of Harry’s thumb and the steady pressure kept him focused on the present, on the here and now. It drowned out all other thoughts and outside noise.

It was something for Draco to concentrate on when his life turned itself upside down, and he still remembered the first time Harry had done it. He’d been in his office, close to having an epic meltdown, fervently trying to come up with a way to fix his former legal assistant’s monumental cock-up in a desperate attempt to ensure the prosecution didn’t lose their case.

Pressing his thumb against Draco’s pulse point was Harry’s way of silently reminding him that he would always stand by him; that he had his back and that Draco wasn’t alone.

The gesture was simple enough, but the message behind it was a powerful one, and Draco truly cherished it.

A small touch from Harry was enough to ignite a fiery passion inside of Draco, and a few words were all it ever took for Harry to make him his.

It was their little thing, a little something that worked only for them. Draco couldn’t imagine anyone else ever being able to affect him in like that. No, this was something only Harry could do.

Even though Draco had never explicitly asked Harry about it, he was sure that knowing he could help meant the world to Harry. Being protective was in his very nature. It was part of his core. It was who he was.

If there was one thing Draco had absolutely no doubt about, it was the fact that no matter what, Harry would walk to the ends of the earth to make sure that he was safe and to Draco, knowing that almost meant more than a straightforward ‘_I love you_’. He trusted Harry with his life, and that was the beauty of their relationship. It was the reason why Draco willingly tried out new things and allowed Harry to bend his boundaries repeatedly. He knew, with every fibre of his body, that Harry would never go too far. Harry knew his limits; he knew them inside out.

“Prosecutor Malfoy, you look like you are a million miles away.”

Draco jumped a little and pulling himself back into the present, he let go of the rope bracelet around his wrist and focused on Harry instead. He’d been too lost in his thoughts to notice that Harry had approached him from somewhere across the room.

Tonight’s Ministry function was a fundraiser disguised as a ball, and it was a maddeningly dull event. Draco’s attendance wasn’t strictly required, but since he didn’t like the idea of Harry suffering alone, he’d offered his company and Harry had gladly accepted it.

Taking a deep calming breath, Draco smiled softly.

“I was,” he said. “A million miles away, I mean.”

“Welcome back then. Unless you were having good thoughts, in which case I’m sorry for pulling you out of them. Were you daydreaming?” Harry asked. “You had a bit of a dreamy expression on your face; it was rather cute.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Draco nodded. “Have you finished your rounds then, Director Potter?”

Harry gave him a lopsided grin, and his eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Not quite, but I’ve had enough of Kingsley parading me around the room like some precious pet.”

Draco chuckled.

“If only they knew that you prefer to have a pet rather than be one yourself.”

Harry laughed.

“Yes, if only they knew. However, it would be best if we kept that particular preference of mine a secret, don’t you agree, my love?”

“Rest assured, Sir, my lips are sealed. Am I to understand that I’m yours for the rest of the evening or have you just stopped by to check that I'm still your good boy?”

Harry took a step closer, and Draco felt the rate of his breathing increase a little.

His stomach flipped with excitement. When Harry reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, a shudder surged down his spine. For a few seconds, he lost himself in Harry’s sparkling green eyes, then he cast his eyes downward and positively basked in the hum of approval, he got from Harry. Over the last two years, he’d practically mastered the art of discreet submission. Harry cherished them, and Draco lived for the thrill of pleasing Harry, who leant closer and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“You’re always mine, my love, whether you’re a good boy or not. But we both know that you like being my good boy. Being good reaps rewards, doesn’t it? Being bad, well, not so much.”

Draco shivered and swayed a bit. He was rather grateful when Harry placed his remaining free hand above the small of his back, effectively steadying him.

“May I have the pleasure of dancing with you, my little prince?”

At Harry’s formal question, Draco’s heart skipped several beats, and he felt his cheeks heat; not enough for him to blush while attending an official Ministry fundraiser, but most definitely, enough for him to feel a little flustered.

“I’d be my honour, Sir.”

He whispered his response.

Harry’s broad smile made the butterflies in the pit of his stomach flutter wildly.

Somehow, even after a little over two years of dating Harry, his excitement hadn’t diminished in the slightest, and he highly doubted it ever would. Harry knew how to keep the spark alive.

Over the last twenty-four months or so, Draco had grown accustomed to the fact that with Harry, he could always expect the unexpected. Harry didn’t conform to the conventional norms of dating. He always added his own little twist to it and had his unique way of spicing things up and making them more exciting. Draco thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

“Well, then let’s dance,” Harry said.

Draco nodded and allowed Harry to lead him onto the dancefloor. Harry walked right to the centre, and although Draco felt a little bit self-conscious over the fact that the moment, they started to dance, all eyes would be on them, he forced himself to relax and got into position.

The string quartet had just started to play a classical waltz, and before Draco knew it, Harry took the first step forward, and left him with no option but to take a step backwards; however, there was no hesitation in his movement, and he moved fluently. The pace of the dance was slow, and as they moved around the dancefloor, Draco relished in the way Harry guided him, setting the speed of the dance and making all the rules. He felt Harry pull him a bit closer than strictly necessary and revelled in the natural body heat that radiated from Harry’s body. This was one of the things Draco cherished immensely. Harry always felt warm. It didn’t matter how long he’d walked around naked or how cold it was outside. Harry’s body was always warm, and Draco loved to snuggle against it, hiding away from the world.

They danced cheek to cheek and a minute or so into the dance, Draco slowly closed his eyes and felt his grasp on reality slip slightly into the background. He trusted Harry enough to follow his lead without worrying about tripping up. As the music, amplified with the help of a Sonorus charm, continued to wash over him, Draco grew entirely oblivious to the fact that at least two-hundred Ministry employees, including his Head of Department, and the Minister for Magic himself, as well as another two-hundred important and highly influential attachés of the Ministry currently surrounded them.

“I love you, Harry.”

The words slipped past Draco’s slightly parted lips, and he felt Harry smile against his cheek.

“I love you too, Draco.”

Harry’s responded without a second thought, and the words filled Draco with warmth. He felt somewhat fuzzy and was only vaguely aware of the fact that the first dance had finished. The band now played a much faster waltz, and Harry was swirling him around the dancefloor at a dizzying speed.

Draco was sure that everyone in the room had by now stopped to watch them dance. He could practically feel everyone’s eyes boring into their backs, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes to verify his assumption.

All he wanted to do was to enjoy this particular moment.

Harry often asked him to dance, but in the two years they’d been together, they’d never danced at a Ministry function. This was a first and Draco had an inkling that their little show was bound to make it onto the front page of The Prophet.

In the eyes of the reporters, Director Harry Potter asking his life partner for a dance in front of a large Ministry audience was far more important and newsworthy than anything else currently going on in the Wizarding World.

Draco could think of a few things that piqued his interest more than a photograph of him and Harry dancing together.

The first-hand experience was everything, and Draco had already memorised every second of every minute of their dance. Harry’s steady and firm grip reminded Draco of several other times during which Harry had gotten a bit rough with him. The mental images his mind so helpfully supplied were somewhat distracting, and Draco resolutely pushed them away and focused on the here and now. It was for the best. Dancing with a rather prominent erection pressing against the inside of his bespoke suit trousers wasn’t something Draco was especially keen on.

Harry expertly led him around the dancefloor for another minute or so, then gradually slowed the pace and the moment they came to a standstill, a tornado of applause erupted in the large banquet room. Draco tried to stop himself from turning crimson, but didn’t quite manage and lowering his head; he beseeched Harry for help.

“Director Potter.”

He murmured Harry’s official title under his breath, and Harry chuckled with amusement. Draco instantly wanted to glare at him, but because that would mean lifting his head, he resisted the urge.

“Prosecutor Malfoy, thank you for this dance.”

“My pleasure. Now, _please_, get me off this dancefloor before my cheeks burn off.”

Harry laughed.

“Praise kink much, my love?” he teased.

Draco snarled under his breath and scowled darkly, but since he wasn’t looking at Harry, his efforts were entirely lost and did absolutely nothing to quench Harry’s sassy cheerfulness.

Still, Harry gallantly led him off the dancefloor, and they headed over to the bar. There, Harry picked up two champagne flutes and handed one to Draco, who had to actively pace himself to avoid pouring the contents of the entire glass down his throat.

* * *

* * *

Draco gave the copy of The Prophet, his mother was presently guarding like a hawk, another withering look and reached for his cappuccino. He’d made two attempts to vanish the paper, but his mother had foiled both of them. She’d now placed the newspaper next to her on the sofa. It lay right beside her cross-stitch frame and a half-finished elaborate pattern of a Japanese garden with blooming Sakura trees; she’d been working on for the last few weeks.

“Seriously, Mother, if you’re that desperate to own a proper photograph of Harry and me, I’ll make an appointment at a photo studio for next week, and if it’s a painting you want, I’m sure we can make arrangements for that, also,” Draco said.

His mother’s venomous glare made Draco’s blood run cold, and he instinctively tightened his hold on his favourite coffee cup and clenched his other hand in his lap.

That look was all it took for him to feel like a five-year-old, and Draco loathed the fact that his mother had that uncanny ability. Apparently, this was a quality all mothers possessed, and according to Harry, Molly Weasley wasn’t any better, but since she always smothered him with love and plied him with extra home-baked chocolate chip biscuits, Draco wasn’t particularly inclined to believe Harry.

“Draco, darling, it’s not the photograph that matters, it’s what I feel when I look at it.”

His mother’s cool tone sent a shiver down Draco’s spine, and he silently watched her add another piece of brown sugar to her favourite tea. She stirred it carefully and until the sugar had dissolved completely, then elegantly placed the small teaspoon beside the glass saucer. She lifted the tea glass off the table, brought it up to her lips, then paused and glanced at him over the rim of the crystal cup.

Draco forced himself to relax and smiled. He knew that his mother wasn’t being deliberately difficult; it was just that he didn’t like that particular cover story. The Prophet had blown the story entirely out of proportion. The Minister for Magic was, of course, grateful for the additional and free, publicity of the event. However, to Draco, his dance with Harry had been just that, a dance. He wished the press would say the same about it, but instead, they insisted on going on about their bespoke suits and dress robes as well as the music. Draco thought the article ridiculous, and the five pictures that accompanied it were a complete waste of precious print space.

Sure, the dance had been a unique and intimate moment between his partner and him, but that was precisely why he hated the idea of seeing it splashed across every single newspaper in Wizarding Britain. The fact that even a few international columnists had picked up on the story irked him even more. Harry found the whole thing rather hilarious and was entirely unbothered by it which unnerved Draco quite a bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a thick skin, he couldn’t get past the farcicality of it all.

“What do you feel when you look at the photograph?”

Draco wasn’t quite sure why he’d asked the question; he wasn’t overly curious, but on some level, he did want to know.

Narcissa’s expression instantly softened, and her warm smile surprised him.

“Do you know what I see when I look at those photographs of you and Harry dancing?”

Draco took a sip of his cappuccino; then a shook his head.

“Tell me.”

“I see two people who are so absolutely in love with each other, that looking at you both hurts in the most beautiful way possible. I see someone who truly loves my son. I see someone who cherishes you deeply and wants to protect you with everything he has. I see someone who wants to put you first; someone who wants to spend a lifetime loving you, Draco, darling. And I see those very same emotions on your face, reflected right back at Harry. Call me a sentimental old romantic, but to me, that was the first dance at a wedding.”

Draco straightened up so abruptly that he spilt half of the contents of his coffee cup over his trousers, and promptly started choking on the breath of air, he’d just inhaled. Coughing into the palm of his hand, he abandoned his coffee on the table and reached for a napkin to dry his soaked trousers.

His mother’s sudden and unexpected remark had flustered him entirely, and he could feel his cheeks burn. They’d undoubtedly turned crimson, though this time it wasn’t because he was embarrassed, but because he’d managed to clog up his airways with a breath of air of all things.

“Mother! What the actual fuck!”

Draco regretted his discomposed exclamation the moment the words had left his mouth. He watched the expression on his mother’s face change in the blink of an eye. It went from concerned to livid with anger in practically no time, and Draco shrunk in his armchair and hastily glanced around for an escape route.

There was none, and all Draco could do was to make himself that little bit smaller.

“Draco Malfoy!”

Narcissa’s voice boomed through her private parlour, and Draco desperately wished there was a spell that had the power to open up the grounds so that they would swallow him alive.

Alternatively, a time turner seemed of the essence right now. Anything to undo the spectacular way he’d just put his foot into his mouth. He had no idea what had made him say those words but, in his surprise, and shock, they’d jumped to the forefront of his mind, and he hadn’t been on guard enough to control his words.

“I will not stand for such vulgarity, especially not when you direct it at me. You are my son, and you are a Malfoy; I have raised you better than this. You are a renowned prosecutor in Wizarding Britain, courtesy of your talents and hard work, and this complete lack of sophistication and crudity is absolutely and utterly uncalled for.”

Draco tried to stammer out an apology, but his mother continued to lecture him on decorum, proper etiquette, and several dozen reasons why today’s society was vulgar, uncouth, and lacked a sense of delicacy.

Apparently, words such as ‘_fuck_’ were bringing about the slow demise and mental enfeeblement of the world at large, and while that was kind of funny, Draco couldn’t bring himself to laugh. A reaction like that was bound to be the final straw for his mother, and Draco was quite sure that in her current mood she wouldn’t shy away from drawing her wand and throwing a curse or two at him.

He highly suspected that his mother’s violent reaction was down to his lack of support about her desire to keep his and Harry’s most recent photographs close at hand. Still, by the time she finally fell quiet and reached for her tea again, Draco felt like he’d been put through the wringer several times over. He waited for several seconds of silence to pass between them, then cleared his throat and straightened his back.

“I’m sorry, Mother, I didn’t mean to speak to you like that. It was uncalled for and disrespectful. Please forgive me.”

Narcissa’s piercing glare caused goosebumps to break out up and down Draco’s arms, and he shivered.

Back at Hogwarts, he’d always fancied himself the Ice Prince of Slytherin. One condescending dark glower had always been enough to sent anyone, including his housemates, scrambling to run for the hills, but his skills were no match for his mother. She had practically invented the icy death glare.

Draco could only recall one other time when he’d seen her use that look. Back then it hadn’t been directed at him but her husband. It had been the night that his father had promised Voldemort that his only heir would take the_ Mark_. Draco shuddered and hastily pushed the memory of that night into the darkest and furthest corner of his mind. That was the very last thing he wanted to think about right now.

“Really, Mother, I’m sorry.”

Draco apologised for the second time, and his mother’s expression softened marginally. The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she relaxed back into the sofa and sipped her tea.

“You’re a fine young man, Draco, darling, and you shouldn’t speak like that. Especially not in front of your mother. I fancy myself a tolerant woman, but I draw the line at obscenities like that. If you want to curse, utilise the English language, my dear. Eloquence is power; tasteless swearwords are not.”

Draco nodded in silent understanding.

He was about to respond when the door to his mother’s private parlour opened and Harry entered the room and closed the door behind him. He’d left earlier to make a quick firecall, although since he’d been gone for the better part of an hour, whatever had needed resolving had taken much longer than Harry had initially anticipated.

Draco watched him take one look at them both, and his first response was to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“Have you two been squabbling?” he asked.

Draco sighed, and lowering his head slightly; he toyed with the napkin in his lap.

Harry approached his armchair, stood beside it and placed a hand on the back of it.

“Care to enlighten me what happened in my absence? Do I need to act as a mediator?”

Draco lifted his head again.

He caught his mother’s roguish smile and knew that it would be up to him to confess his sins to Harry.

“Mother is displeased with me,” he said.

“And why is that?” Harry asked.

Draco swallowed a sigh.

“I used a bad word.”

Harry grinned.

There was a devilish sparkle in his eyes.

“Did you now?”

Draco nodded.

“Don’t make me repeat it. She’ll hex my head off.”

“Did it by any chance start with the letter F?”

Draco inclined his head to answer in the affirmative.

Harry chuckled with amusement, and Draco felt the strong desire to glare at him but swallowed the urge.

“In that case, I wholeheartedly support your mother. Such uncouthness needs to be punished. Narcissa, I apologise on behalf of my boyfriend. I shall take him home, wash his mouth out with soap and then put him over my knees. Rest assured, he’ll apologise profusely next time we visit to have tea.”

“Harry Potter!”

Draco only realised exactly how high-pitched his exclamation had been when both Harry and his mother placed their hands above their ears and grimaced. Biting down hard on his tongue, Draco swallowed his next remark and this time he didn’t hold back. He glowered at Harry and defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re unbelievable. For the record, I already apologised _twice,_ and instead of being a good boyfriend and having my back, you side with my mother and say _that_!”

“Aw, have I ruffled your feathers, my love?”

Harry’s teasing only served to make Draco scowl even harder.

When his mother chuckled in obvious amusement, he rather abruptly rose from his chair, stalked over to the large double-glazed French windows and turned his back on Harry and her.

“You are both utterly unbelievable,” Draco said.

He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to face the window, looking out of the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

“How so?” Narcissa asked.

“I can’t help it; you bicker like an old married couple. Don’t expect me to listen to that sort of entertainment going on in my house and keep a straight face throughout it all.”

Draco whirled around and glared daggers at his mother while Harry looked at him with a questioning expression.

“Harry and I don’t bicker like an old married couple, thank you very much, Mother.”

Harry’s snort made Draco redirect his dark glower at him.

“I hate to break it to you, my love, but when we bicker, we absolutely bicker like an old married couple. Your mother isn’t the first person I’ve heard that phrase from. Charlie and Caleb have both said it on several occasions. Ron said it, and every time I mention your name in Gin’s presence; she calls you my husband.”

Draco sighed.

He shook his head, and after a few minutes of quiet contemplation, he returned to the comfortable sitting area, although this time, he chose to sit down on the armrest right beside his mother. She reached up and caressed his cheek and smiled softly.

“Humour me, Draco, darling. I’m an old romantic at heart, and I want to see you happy and in love for the rest of your life, but if it’s too much too soon, I’ll keep quiet about it.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t be silly, Mother, dear.”

He leant down and placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

“Aw, you’ve made up. All is well again.”

At hearing Harry’s comment, Draco turned his head.

“I’m not talking to you, Potter.”

“Oh?”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Don’t act all innocent, you know why.”

“I’m afraid I don’t. Would you mind telling me?”

“I would. You’re the Director of the Auror Department, use your excellent deductive skills and figure it out yourself, Mr Potter, _Sir_.”

Harry laughed.

“Looks like somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Draco made a purposefully incomprehensible remark and stubbornly continued to ignore Harry and all of his amusing attempts to get him to break his silence and talk to him.

* * *

* * *

An hour later, when they arrived back at Grimmauld Place, Draco was still in a huff or at least pretending to be, though he was confident that he wasn’t doing a good job at sulking away. This resolve was beginning to wear thin, and it was all Harry’s fault or at least he wanted it to be Harry’s fault.

Harry hadn’t done anything, and Draco wasn’t really mad, but at this stage, he wanted to get this own way just for the sake of it. Draco suspected that Harry knew that, he could read him like a book after all, but even if he’d seen right through his charade, Harry wasn’t letting anything on.

Instead, Harry was thoroughly charming, full of smiles, and he was lacing all of his responses with just the right level of cheeky sass. So far, Draco had hastily turned his head away trice to be able to hide a smirk, that he hadn’t been able to stop from pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was sure that Harry had noticed every single one of his slip-ups, but he was too much of a gentleman to let Draco lose his face, and Draco appreciated it. He enjoyed it a lot, and that made pretending to be mad at Harry for siding with his mother even more difficult than it already was. It was a petty little thing to hold a grudge over, and at this stage, it was his pride that pushed him to get his way rather than anything else.

Harry had just left the room, ominously announcing that he had a little surprise for him.

Not giving any further thought to Harry’s sudden departure, Draco picked up his favourite dark-green coffee mug and casually sipped on a lightly-roasted coffee from Guatemala.

After Harry had made and handed him his coffee, he’d curled up on the large and comfortable sofa in his and Harry’s living room. He stared into space and allowed his mind to slowly gravitate to whatever thought it wanted to contemplate.

Draco wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he had finished about half of his coffee, Harry called out to him from the doorway, announcing his return.

The moment Draco turned his head, his breath caught in his throat and any rational thought, he’d ever had, fled from his brain. His mouth fell open, and it didn’t matter how hard he tried; he couldn’t stop himself from staring.

Harry wore nothing more than a pair of worn, distressed light-blue jeans ― it was his favourite pair. His feet were bare, which was nothing unusual, but the fact that he was topless was highly surprising. Harry didn’t usually make a habit out of walking around the house half-naked, and if he was, then he had an excellent reason for it.

This was the kind of outfit; Harry only wore when they played. He didn’t always wear the same one, but whenever he did, Draco’s mind went blank, and he had a hard time concentrating on anything, except perhaps Harry’s orders.

Slowly sweeping his eyes over Harry’s chest, Draco swallowed hard. Harry’s choice of clothing suggested impact play. That or Harry wanted to play with his ropes, tie him up, and use a plethora of decorative knots.

“Sir.”

The word fell from Draco’s lips like honey dripped from a wooden honey dipper, and he felt its vibrations surge down his spine and pool low in his groin. His heart skipped a beat, and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered, making him feel both nervous and excited at the same time.

Harry smiled.

He didn’t say anything.

He just smiled.

He also had that look in his eyes.

The look.

Draco melted and felt the intense urge to slide off the sofa and crawl across the room. He wanted to kneel at Harry’s feet and surrender every part of himself to Harry. The desire and need to do so was almost overwhelming, and Draco didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed about feeling this way.

Only Harry could make him want this with something as simple as a look. Sometimes, a smile or even an innocent touch was all it took to release his burning need to submit.

Without actually doing anything, Harry had broken down the barrier, Draco had built between them, and there was nothing Draco could do about that.

There was nothing he wanted to do about it.

The power Harry had over him was intoxicating. It was the sweetest kind of aphrodisiac, and it always drew him in. He couldn’t resist it, and he didn’t want to.

Moving his feet off the sofa and setting them onto the ground, Draco curled his toes into the shagged rug beneath his feet. He was about to lean forward and set his coffee mug down when Harry shook his head.

“No, my little prince, stay right there,” he said.

His voice was soft, but the authoritative undertone wasn’t lost on Draco, and he nodded mutely. He gently set his cup down on the low table in front of him and relaxed back into the sofa cushions.

Harry walked into the room, and with each step that he took, Draco’s breathing hitched a little further, and he felt his anticipation rise. He had no idea what Harry’s plan was, and he didn’t want to know. Not knowing what was about to happen never unsettled him, but always excited him.

With Harry, there was no reason to be apprehensive.

There was absolutely no way Harry would ever break their golden rule ― _if it’s not what you want, then it isn’t what I want_.

Over the last two years, Harry had repeated that sentence so many times, that it was now etched deeply into Draco’s heart. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it.

As Harry crossed the room, he moved his hand ever so slightly and levitated the coffee table further away from the sofa. He stopped right in front of Draco, and when he reached out to run his fingers through his hair, Draco instinctively closed his eyes and hummed in approval.

He felt Harry’s thumb press against his mouth and parting his lips; he allowed the digit to slip inside and place pressure on his tongue, effectively gagging him.

“Had your fun, my little prince?”

The question surprised Draco somewhat, and opening his eyes, he looked up at Harry and blinked. He wanted to ask what Harry meant but couldn’t respond.

“You know how I feel about your use of foul language. It’s unbecoming for a little prince such as you to be this uncouth. There’s absolutely no way I’d have taken your side, my love.”

Harry’s smile was more of a devilish smirk, and Draco wanted to glare at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to follow through.

“Still, I sense that you’re rather miffed and so I’ve decided that a bribe is in order, a little something to sweeten the deal.”

Draco swallowed and the pressure of Harry’s thumb against his tongue intensified. He wanted to ask about Harry’s intentions, but he also rather enjoyed the possessive way, Harry had robbed him of his ability to speak freely.

“I think five of your favourite chocolates should do the trick, don’t you? And after that, if you decide that you want to be a good boy and talk to me again, we can negotiate about adding to the deal. I can think of a few things to sweeten it even further.”

At the mention of his favourite chocolates, Draco felt his mouth water, and he hastily swallowed hard. Harry slowly withdrew his hand and produced a small inconspicuous-looking white box. He removed the lid and removed a piece of chocolate, carefully holding between his wet thumb and index finger.

“Let’s start with a butterscotch walnut truffle,” he said with a smile.

He offered the chocolate to Draco, who willingly parted his lips and accepted the offered treat. He loved it when Harry towered over him like this and fed him. The gesture in itself was sweet and loving, but the domination behind it was intense and powerful, and Draco thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.

Biting into the soft chocolate, he savoured the butterscotch caramel and walnut cream and let out a soft moan when the sweet molasses just beneath the milk chocolate shell, mixed with all the other flavours. He hummed softly and looked up at Harry.

“Thank you, Sir,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

“You’re welcome, my little prince? Would you like another one?”

Draco instinctively nodded, but Harry clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No, my love, that’s not how this game works. You know the rules. If you want it, you’ve got to ask for it.”

Draco swallowed the last bit of his chocolate down and nodded in silent understanding.

“May I please have another chocolate, Sir?”

“Of course,” Harry said with a smile.

He lifted another piece of chocolate out of the small box. This one was a dark chocolate ganache sprinkled with red cocoa. Draco accepted it and let out a low moan of appreciation when he sank his teeth into the soft truffle, and an avalanche of flavours exploded in his mouth. He identified cinnamon, vanilla, and several exotic spices. The blend was perfect. The chocolate was sweet and spicy at the same time, and Draco licked his lips.

“Are you enjoying your sweet treats, my love?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

He asked for a third piece, and Harry offered it to him. They continued to play their little game until Draco had finished the fifth and last piece of chocolate ― a chocolate lava cake truffle with liquid fondant in a dark chocolate shell, and dusted with a light sheen powdered sugar.

“Still feeling put out, my little prince?”

Under normal circumstances, Draco might have considered answering that question with yes, but this wasn’t an everyday sort of situation, and he wasn’t feeling particularly sassy anymore.

“No, Sir.”

“Well, that’s perfect. A little bit of bribery always goes a long way, don’t you think so, my love?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry grinned in response to that.

“Is there anything else you would like, my sweet little prince?”

“A hug and a kiss?”

Draco posed the question tentatively but knew that Harry wouldn’t deny him that request. Physical contact wasn’t something Harry ever refused to give him. During proper playtime, he sometimes made him ask for it, or even wait for it, but otherwise, he always gave it freely and with wild abandon.

“Always,” he said.

Harry sat down on the sofa beside him, and Draco immediately shuffled as close as possible. He curled up against Harry, and wrapping his arms around him, he pressed his cheek to Harry’s bare chest, and closing his eyes, he focused on Harry’s steady heartbeat. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head, and Draco hummed softly.

“Your mother is right; we do bicker like an old married couple, you know.”

Letting out a low groan, Draco lifted his head and rolled his eyes at Harry.

“Not you too, please,” he implored.

Harry chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“But I enjoy ruffling your feathers, my love.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“And you don’t mind.”

Draco wanted to object to that, but since it would be a lie, he kept silent and snuggled back into Harry’s embrace.

“Sweet little pet, I love you.”

* * *

* * *


	3. Happy Anniversay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another humble offering. After bringing back some of my favourite original characters, I decided I also need to bring back some Weasley love.
> 
> I know this is not everyone's cup of tea and not everyone agrees with the way I've portrayed them in this story, but at the end of the day, it's my story and the way I've written all the members of the Weasley family works best for my story, and I hope, that even if you have a different opinion on the characters, you can understand where I'm coming from.
> 
> I wonder if you're slowly able to work out where I am taking this story. Would love to hear your thoughts on this. Of course, I’m not going to confirm or deny anything but you’re welcome to let your fantasies run wild and if you want to share them with me, well, that’s even better.
> 
> Following popular demand, let us also welcome back Draco's famous diary entries.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

[…] I’ll be honest, as I always am when I write these entries, _there was a moment when I thought I might be upset about the comment you made in front of Mother. But after thinking about it for a while, I realised I am not. I mean I could have freaked out about it, wondering and worrying what she thought of you telling her that you’d put me over your knee once we got home, but beneath it all, Mother does have a great sense of humour, and I know she understood it to be a joke._ […] 

[…] _Sometimes I wonder what she’d think if she knew about the finer points of our relationship and sometimes, I can’t help myself but think she must have an inkling. I’ve never been especially obvious about submitting to you in front of her, but there are moments when what you do or say makes it impossible to resist letting that side of me show. It’s then that I ask myself whether she knows what we get up to in the privacy of our own home, and then I find myself grinning like a fool._ […]

[…] _Let’s not let her find out, though, OK? The way we have chosen to live our lives isn’t a dirty little secret, and I’m not ashamed of who I am or any of my preferences, but I do want to keep them private and between the two of us. For the most part anyway. Each time we play, and every time I submit to you, is unique and special. I don’t ever want to share any of those moments with anyone but you, Sir._ […]

* * *

* * *

Amid all the chatter and laughter that reverberated around the marquee, filling the evening with happiness and love, the light and the clear chink of champagne flutes could be heard. It was a strange sort of combination, yet each sound complimented the other perfectly. Harry glanced around large and sumptuous tent; he’d helped erect earlier this morning and smiled softly.

The party buzzed with life and Harry couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement. He squeezed Draco’s hip gently and felt Draco shuffle beside him, moving just that little bit closer. There wasn’t a gap between them, and Harry liked it that way. He didn’t mind the fact that they’d practically been joined at the hip all evening. Ron had, of course, jumped at the chance to mercilessly tease them about acting like newlyweds, but the playful jabs had done nothing to dampen Harry’s high spirits. Tonight, was most definitely a good night, an excellent night indeed.

A few minutes ago, everyone had gathered around the dancefloor and the Wizarding DJ, George had booked for the night, was currently blasting Celestina Warbeck’s _A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love_. It was Molly’s and Arthur’s favourite song, and after much persuasion, they’d finally stepped out onto the dancefloor and were now thoroughly enjoying themselves, while everyone else clapped along to the beat to encourage them to keep dancing.

Harry silently credited the two tumblers of Firewhiskey, he’d seen Arthur indulge in, and judging by Molly’s very rosy cheeks, she’d had at least one glass of wine, if not more.

Arthur boldly spun his wife around, and she laughed heartily. Somehow, Fleur had managed to convince her mother-in-law to literally let her hair down, and it whipped through the air as she danced with her husband of forty years. It was their wedding anniversary, and everyone had gathered in the Burrow’s back garden to celebrate the happy occasion.

Molly had, of course, put up a massive fight about having such an extravagant party, but Harry and the rest of the family, including Andromeda, had overruled her reasonably quickly. According to Arthur, that in itself was a historical family event, and Harry still chuckled every time he recalled the murderous glower Molly had given her husband from across the room. Usually, it was her who made the rules and told everyone what needed to be done, but just this once they’d rallied together to get her to back down.

Hermione had planned the entire event, organising and order the catering, the flowers, the marquee, and the round tables and matching chairs.

Fleur had taken charge of decorating everything and putting together the flower arrangements.

George had volunteered to book a band and DJ. He’d also organised the gifts for the guests, although Harry highly suspected that Angelina had banned any and all of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’ stock from making it into the gift bags.

Ginny and Andromeda had, under false pretences, of course, kidnapped Molly and taken her to get fitted for a new dress.

Charlie had portkey’ed over from Romania, with Liam in tow, and together they’d taken Arthur to a tailor who’d taken measurements for a brand-new and very fancy three-piece Muggle suit.

Bill had volunteered to adjust the wards around the Burrow.

Draco had drafted the application for a sizeable wizarding gathering and Harry had rushed it through the relevant Ministry departments, getting it approved in no time. He didn’t often use his fame or his position as Department Head to get what he wanted, but if it was for a good cause, he did occasionally make the one or other exception.

Percy and his wife had welcomed all invited guests at a designated Apparition Point just outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. They’d chosen a somewhat secluded spot and secured it with plenty of Muggle-repelling charms to allow for the sudden appearance of around one-hundred guests, some dressed in rather peculiar-looking wizarding robes.

Ron had gathered up all the children, solicited the help of several friends, and they’d all floo’ed to Diagon Alley to enjoy cold treats at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, and have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. In the afternoon, he’d organised a magical sport’s fest in the empty field adjacent to the Burrow’s back garden, and by the time the guests started to arrive, all the children had been perfectly dressed and on their best behaviour.

Teddy had been the only one to refuse to tag along with everyone else, and after a long conversation with Harry, he’d confessed that he wanted to spend time with him and Draco at the Burrow instead of eating ice-cream and playing games. Unable to refuse Teddy’s request, for it had come with a pout that melted Harry’s heart, he’d declared his godson his right-hand-man and Teddy had positively blossomed after being allowed to stay back and help with the final preparations for the party.

“Harry?”

Draco whispered his name softly, and Harry turned his head at once, smiling at him.

“Hm?”

“If we last this long, if we’re fortunate enough to celebrate our fortieth anniversary, promise me, we’ll never lose this childish innocence. I believe it’s the foundation of love.”

Harry chuckled.

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with your request, my love,” he said.

Draco arched an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look. It was the kind of Malfoyesque gaze that practically screamed _how-dare-you-question-my-words-Director-Potter-I’m-a-Senior-Prosecutor-for-the-Wizengamot,_ and it instantly made Harry grin widely. His amused reaction only furthered Draco’s annoyance although, and Harry was sure of that, most of it was simply carefully executed pretence.

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with it?”

Draco voice thickly dripped with sarcasm, and when Harry winked at him, Draco pulled a face that was one of complete and utter disdain; however, his features softened a moment later, and he smiled lightly.

“Just one word,” Harry said, then paused for dramatic effect. “Not _if_, Draco, my love, but _when_, because unless you’re planning to walk away, I fully intend to keep you for all eternity.”

Draco chuckled softly.

“Possessive.”

Harry grinned.

He squeezed Draco’s hip. His grasp wasn’t hard enough to bruise, not here and not now, but it was most definitely hard enough to for Draco to feel it.

“Always. You’re mine. And I promise I’ll whirl you around a dancefloor when we’re eighty, and our bones ache and crack with every spin we take.”

“Speak for yourself, Potter. My bones are in excellent shape. There’ll be no aching and cracking when I’m eighty. I’ll crawl with elegance.”

Harry laughed.

“A spanking perhaps to supply the aches and a good hard fuck to give your crack the attention it deserves?”

Draco wrinkled his nose.

“Crude, Director Potter, just crude.”

The flicker of amusement in Draco’s eyes gave him away. He was neither seriously offended, nor put off by Harry’s suggestion.

Leaning closer, Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips. He lingered for a few seconds, then pulled back.

“A little bit of crudeness keeps the spark alive, my little prince. Now, and on an entirely different note, want to know what Molly said to me earlier?”

For a moment, Draco looked hesitant.

“Dare I ask?”

Harry chuckled.

“You dare, my love.”

“Why do I have the feeling that you’ll tell me no matter what I say?”

“Because you know I feel the unquenchable desire not to suffer in silence?”

Draco shrugged.

“Perhaps, you should. Payback for your earlier crudeness.”

“As if you’re not excited about the fact that I’m confident we’ll still be hot for each other in forty years.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Our sex life is the very last thing I’ve complaints about.”

“Oh? Anything making you unhappy, my love?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, the carpet in the downstairs hallway,” he said with an expression so severe that it momentarily sobered Harry up.

A second later, however, he was grinning again.

“What’s wrong with the carpet in the downstairs hallway?” he asked.

Draco sighed dramatically.

“Everything.”

Harry laughed.

“Change it then, you don’t need my permission to redecorate. Have at it. The only room that’s off-limits is the playroom, but I don’t need to tell you that.”

“Careful, Potter, issuing that sort of blanket approval is dangerous. You’re giving me decidedly too much power here.”

Harry smiled.

“No, my little prince, I’m not. We both know that if you abuse it and turn Grimmauld Place into a sort of Slytherin shrine, I’ll spank your gorgeous behind until it’s Gryffindor-red and you won’t be able to sit comfortably for a day or two.”

Harry positively delighted in the way Draco’s pupils dilated, and he swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he did so and with a thoroughly devilish glint in his eyes, Harry decided to take things a bit further.

“And do you know what makes that fantasy even better, my love? The fact that we both also know that you’ll love every smack of it and I’ll have you begging for more before I’m even halfway done with your punishment.”

Draco pressed his lips together, and Harry knew he was trying his hardest to hold back a soft longing sigh at the images he’d just planted in Draco’s head. Harry swiftly closed the small gap between them and kissed Draco. It was a lingering, deep kiss, and Draco hummed into it, silently expressing his approval of Harry’s kinky little fantasy.

When he pulled away, they both had to take a moment to regulate their breathing and the soft flush that graced Draco’s cheeks did unspeakable things to Harry. For a moment, he wished that they could make a run for it, apparate away from the Burrow and return home to play for a while. But this is was Arthur’s and Molly’s special night, and Harry wasn’t about to disappear on them just to indulge his deviant imagination and have sex with Draco. There would be plenty of time for that later, and Harry had every intention of making sure of that.

Having noted his slight struggle with fantasy and reality, Harry was grateful for Draco’s quick reaction and focused entirely on the tight squeeze, Draco gave his hand.

“I believe you wanted to share something with me? Something Molly said to you earlier?”

Harry nodded.

He took a moment to settle his mind, then launched into a detailed recount of his and Molly’s earlier conversation, watching with amusement as Draco’s eyes widened steadily in complete and utter disbelief.

* * *

**Flashback Start**

* * *

“Harry.”

Molly’s familiar voice instantly drew Harry’s attention. He wrapped his fingers around the stem of a champagne flute, and holding the glass steadily, he turned to face his adopted mother.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness, love, and hope, and Harry found it impossible not to let her intoxicatingly cheerful mood positively influence his own. She’d been smiling and laughing all day, and Harry loved seeing her like that. She looked younger than ever and her new dress, makeup, and professionally-styled hair were only part of the reason she looked so good.

Molly Weasley was the kind of woman who always worried about everything and everyone, but for today’s celebrations, everyone had come together and they’d all taken care of everything she usually worried about. Somehow, having been given a day off and not having to potter about the place, thinking about a million different things all at once, had taken years off of her. Her wrinkles appeared much softer, and she seemed a lot more relaxed than usual.

Tonight, she wasn’t the dragon sitting at the head of the Weasley family table.

No, tonight, she was here to celebrate her wedding anniversary, and the fact that somehow, she had consented to her family temporarily relieving her of all her matriarchal duties was indeed a feat in itself.

Harry smiled at his adopted mother, then frowned slightly when he noted something about the look in her eyes. It wasn’t pronounced, but Harry had known Molly Weasley for about two decades, and he fancied himself rather apt at being able to foretell her moods. Knowing when or when not to approach Molly Weasley helped a lot when one wasn’t especially keen on getting an earful about something or other one had done.

Molly wasn’t the kind of woman who shied away from telling you exactly what she thought of your behaviour and even at nearly thirty years of age, Harry had a great deal of respect for the woman who had, without as much as batting an eyelid, accepted him as part of her family.

When it came to Molly, his preference for dominance didn’t matter. The fact that he had killed Voldemort and ended a war mattered even less.

His celebrity status in Wizarding Britain, along with being the Director of the Auror Department and the Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn’t something, Harry thought about when he stood in front of Molly.

With Molly, he was just Harry, a thoroughly ordinary boy. Molly didn’t entertain any of his flights of fancy. He occasionally tried to test her boundaries ― it was somewhat of a tradition among the Weasley offspring, and even Molly’s grandchildren were starting to do the same ― in the end he always backed down and listen to reason. Molly didn’t expect her word to be the golden rule unless it came to house rules and family gatherings.

When it came to those things, nobody dared to mess with her, not even her husband. With everything else, all Molly wanted was for her children to listen. She was a smart woman and an excellent argument often managed to change her mind, but stubborn behaviour and sulky expressions hardly ever got you her attention. Although, it did often result in a whack around the head with a dishtowel.

Molly smiled in returned and mildly concerned, Harry instinctively knew that his adopted mother was about to say something he mightn’t necessarily want to hear. He inhaled deeply, took a small sip from his champagne flute, and inwardly braced himself for whatever Molly was about to say. What he wasn’t prepared for was Molly inquiring about his and Draco’s relationship.

“I trust all is well between you and Draco?” she asked.

Harry blinked.

For a moment, he was unsure of what she’d meant. He wasn’t aware of any unfavourable articles about him, and Draco in the tabloids and Molly knew better than to believe that sort of nonsense, even if the piece included photos that showed him and Draco walking down the street holding hands or even locked in a passionate embrace and sharing a kiss.

Knowing that prolonged silence was never an excellent response to one of Molly’s prodding questions, Harry forced himself to nod.

“Yes, yes, of course. Everything’s fine.”

Molly smiled, and Harry relaxed just a little bit.

“Why do you ask?” he wanted to know.

Molly shrugged.

“Motherly concern,” she said.

Harry didn’t believe her for one second, but he knew better than to question her outright.

“You needn’t worry, mum, everything’s is going great. We’ve no plans to kill each other in the immediate future, and Draco won the small discussion we had last week about changing the brand of tea we buy.”

Molly chuckled, and Harry gave her a lopsided grin.

Even though they both usually preferred coffee, Draco had been complaining about the brand of loose tea leaves, Harry had been buying for the last few years. Apparently, something was off with the taste of it, and Draco was thoroughly put out by the idea of having to drink the vile concoction. At first, he’d tried several different brewing methods, but nothing had elevated his foul mood.

Despite trying his best to engage all of his taste buds, to Harry, the tea tasted just fine, but the mere mention of that set Draco off and he'd start an epic rant that resembled the closing speech of a fake-lawyer in some American TV drama. The second time he went on a lengthy rant about the lack of inspection during the leaf-picking-process and every other step that followed after, Harry had felt the strong desire to pull the Dom-card; however, there was a time and a place for that and using the lifestyle to quench Draco’s unhappiness about something or other, no matter how small, wasn’t how one respectfully dealt with relationship problems, no matter how small they were or how ridiculous or trivial they might appear. That was one of Harry's golden rules and he had no intention of breaking this one any time soon, or ever.

So, instead, he’d set aside some time for them both to go tea tasting and after a whole afternoon of trying out different types of black tea, and several pressing trips to the loo, they’d finally agreed on a new brand of tea leaves. Draco had, with a most gleeful smile, gifted the remaining tea leaves to his department’s newly-furbished tea room and tea leaves were no longer an issue at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“You two bicker like an old married couple, it’s quite entertaining,” Molly said with a shrewdly whimsical twinkle in her eyes.

“You’re not the first one to say that. Draco and I talk about anything. We communicate, and we’ve built a great deal of trust between us.”

Molly nodded in agreement.

“The most solid foundation of any relationship,” she said.

Harry smiled.

He agreed.

His and Draco’s relationship was built entirely on trust, open communication, and complete honesty. Those were the pillars they’d founded their relationship on, and he was immensely proud of the close bond they shared. Intimacy and sex were vital to them, and something they both indulged in often and with great abundance, but it wasn’t the most crucial aspect of their relationship. They both respected each other and Harry didn’t think Draco’s desire to submit to him and follow his lead made him weak. If anything and he still reminded Draco of that quite frequently, he felt it was a testament of Draco’s strength and character. Draco was comfortable with who he was, and so relaxed that he willingly let go and handed the reins over to Harry. It was a gift, Harry truly treasured and he made sure to tell Draco as often as possible.

_Thank you, my little prince_ ― five simple words were all it took to turn Draco’s world upside down and produce the most beautiful blush Harry had ever seen in his entire life. The look in Draco’s eyes was the kind of look that repeatedly made Harry fall in love with Draco.

“I’m pretty sure that you’re not concerned about the state of my relationship, Molly. You have the eyes of a hawk; you know everything is fine.”

“Do I?”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to handle Molly’s wicked smile. It wasn’t something one saw often, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder whether Molly had, perhaps, taken a few too many liberties with her favourite sherry earlier today.

“We both know you do.”

Molly laughed.

It was a hearty, amused sort of laugh.

“Cheeky, Harry, cheeky.”

Harry shrugged.

“It’s true, though.”

“Well, since you’ve seen right through me and my charade, I might as well come right out with it.”

Harry grinned.

“You might as well.”

He took another sip from his drink but made a point to swallow quickly, lest Molly’s next words caused him to choke.

They would have done.

“What are your plans for making an honest man out of that handsome boyfriend of yours?”

Harry’s first response to the question was to grip his champagne flute so tightly, he worried that the delicate glass was going to burst in his grasp. His second response was to try his best to suppress an embarrassed cough.

“I hadn’t actually thought about that,” he said.

It was a blatant lie.

He’d thought about it.

He’d even told Draco that he’d thought about it.

It had been this on his birthday a little over a year ago.

They’d been in Draco’s childhood bedroom on the top floor of Malfoy Manor, curled up in each other’s arms, trying to recover from an intense scene and the high, Harry had taken them both to.

“You should, Harry, you really should.”

“Are you telling me that Draco and I should get a move on and get married?”

Molly nodded.

“Essentially, yes.”

Harry groaned.

“Mother,” he sighed. “It’s been a little over two years―”

“Plenty of time to realise whether the boy’s the one or not. And don’t you _mother_ me, young man, it’s always been mum, although I only hear it once in a blue moon from you.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure whether Molly was giving out to him about the fact that he didn’t call her _mum_ nearly often enough or whether she was happy that he did so at all.

“We live together. What’s the rush? As far as I can tell, Draco isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I.”

“If you’ve already established that neither one of you is going anywhere that doesn’t include the other, you may as well just make things official, Harry.”

_You just want to plan a wedding_, Harry thought. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it harshly and swallowed the sassy remark right down. While Molly wasn’t currently in possession of a dishtowel, he had no doubt that she would likely find or summon something else to whack him over the head with.

“Have you been talking to Draco’s mother?” he asked instead.

Judging by the look on Molly’s face, that question wasn’t any better than what he’d actually been about to say, and Harry wondered whether he could get his hands on a time-turner right about now.

Molly frowned at him.

“No. Why? Should I?”

Harry quickly shook his head.

“No, no matter. Forget I ever said anything.”

“Young man―” Molly started but broke off.

She looked at him for a moment or two, then her expression softened. With a smile, she reached out to squeeze his forearm.

“Forgive me, Harry. I said to myself I wasn’t going to be pushy, yet that’s exactly what I’m doing. You and Draco are absolutely perfect for each other. The first time I’ve ever seen you truly happy and at peace with yourself was when he walked back into your life. There’s something about him that’s good for you, and it makes me want to see you together forever. I just want all of my children to be happy.”

Harry blinked furiously and told himself that he wasn’t going to cry in front of Molly Weasley at the celebration of her fortieth wedding anniversary, but he couldn’t entirely stop his eyes from filling with water. They stung, and he blinked harder, then shook his head and embarrassed, he quickly looked away.

“He’s perfect, mum, in every sense of the way.”

Molly responded by pulling him into a motherly hug, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight.

“Don’t muck it up, Harry, my boy.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“And do me the honour of marrying him before they call me from behind the veil, won’t you? I want your mother to see you on your wedding day, and I’ll gush about it for all eternity.”

That was it, Harry’s floodgates opened, and although he tried to swallow down the giant sob that threatened to slip past his parted lips, the thick, massive lump in his throat made it impossible to do so.

Molly hugged him a little tighter and patted his back, offering silent comfort. After a minute or two, Harry resolutely pulled away. He gladly accepted the cotton handkerchief, Molly conjured for him, then he turned away and discreetly dried his eyes.

When he looked back at Molly, she was smiling brightly, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to turn this into such an emotional moment. Tonight’s celebrations have already been quite touching, I’m afraid it’s made me a bit sentimental.”

Harry chuckled.

“Only a smidgen more so than usual, _mother_,” he teased.

Molly gave him a pointed look.

“Don’t you―”

“Seriously, Mrs Weasley, I’ve said it like a million times tonight, and this is all you care about?”

Molly cringed.

“_Mrs Weasley_, that’s even worse,” she said with a noticeable shudder.

Harry laughed.

“I promise you; I won’t let Draco go. Well, not if he doesn’t want to leave, in any case.”

Molly smiled.

“That’s my boy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find my husband before he decides to escape into his shed.”

As Molly turned and walked away, Harry quickly downed the rest of his champagne, then turned back to the bar and ordered a double Firewhiskey neat. He needed something to calm the nerves. Everything about his conversation with Molly screamed surreal, and Harry discreetly pinched himself. A part of him was absolutely convinced he’d imagined the entire thing.

* * *

**Flashback Finish**

* * *

* * *


	4. Boo, Poltergeists and other Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what can I say, this chapter practically wrote itself. Mostly anyway. Who knew that Teddy is such an adorable child to write about? Learnt something new again. 
> 
> On to other adventures.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

A knock on his office door pulled Draco right out of scrutinising a large pile of witness statements in preparation for a new case and lifting his head off the paper, he glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was eleven-thirty in the morning, and to his knowledge he wasn’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t have to mean anything. Unannounced visitors were a regular occurrence.

“Come in.”

As he called out to whoever stood outside his office door, he stood up and smoothed out his black prosecutor’s robes, flicking a stray speck of dust off his left sleeve.

The door opened, and to his surprise Andromeda walked in.

Behind her, Teddy dragged his feet. He was terribly pale and had turned his hair into an awful shade of mouse-grey. Draco suspected that it had been a burst of uncontrollable underage magic. Teddy was getting better at managing his Metamorphmagus powers, but because of his age, a lot of the changes to his physical appearance were directly connected to his mood and general wellbeing.

“Andromeda!”

Draco greeted his aunt with a smile as he stepped out from behind his massive mahogany desk.

“Draco, dear. I’m so sorry to come by completely unannounced―”

“Nonsense.”

Shaking his head, Draco cut her off instantly. The last he wanted to listen to was an unnecessary apology.

“What’s the matter with Teddy?” he asked, concerned.

“He threw up at school, and they got in touch, telling me to come pick him up. I suspect it’s an ordinary stomach bug, but the poor fella is absolutely miserable. I’ve a meeting with Kingsley in twenty minutes I absolutely can’t get out of, and I tried to find Harry, but he’s not in his office. Would you mind―”

Draco held his hand up, silencing his aunt for the second time in as many minutes.

“Harry’s up in Glasgow for the day, he left before dawn this morning. Leave Teddy with me, I’ll look after him,” he said without having to think twice about his words.

Strangely enough, he felt entirely at ease with the fact that he’d just offered to look after Harry’s sick godson, who also happened to be his little cousin.

Before Harry and he started dating, the mere idea of having to look after somebody else’s child would have scared the life of out of him, but Teddy was family, and this was obviously an emergency. There was absolutely no way he would turn Andromeda away, adding to her stress.

“Are you sure?” Andromeda asked.

Her anxiousness was distinctly noticeable, and she looked slightly conflicted.

“I’d floo him over to the Burrow, but I don’t think he’s in any fit state for that, and I’m not risking apparating him there.”

“Andy. For Salazar’s sake, stop fussing. I’ll look after Teddy; he’ll be fine with me.”

“I know it’s a bit of an inconvenience―”

“Don’t be daft.”

Draco dismissed his aunt’s concerns straight away, and shrugging his prosecutor’s robes off, he folded them neatly and placed them over the backrest of the empty visitor’s chair in front of his desk. He gave Teddy a warm smile and taking a step forward, he gently combed his fingers through his cousin’s hair.

“You’re OK staying with me, aren’t you, little man?”

Teddy shrugged listlessly.

“Sure, Uncle D,” he mumbled.

Teddy’s low-spirited response was a stark contrast to what he was usually like. He was outgoing, bubbly and loved to laugh. Now, he was just a very sick and miserable boy.

Draco still passionately hated whenever Teddy called him _that_, but he swallowed his displeasure at the way his cousin had butchered his name, and wrapped his arms around Teddy instead, enveloping him in a gentle hug.

It still amazed him how quickly Teddy had taken to him, but in the short time they’d known each other, they’d practically become the best of friends.

Granted, Teddy still clung to Harry any chance he got, but he didn’t mind spending time with his older cousin, and they often did stuff together and usually had the best time. What with Teddy being poorly, Draco suspected having fun wasn’t very high on his to-do-list, but he was sure he’d be able to find something to entertain Teddy with. Perhaps, sleep was all he needed and wanted.

Andromeda asked once more whether he really didn’t mind looking after Teddy for the rest of the day. Although Draco had a massive pile of files to get through for an upcoming trial, he lied straight through his teeth and told her that he was free and very much capable of taking care of Teddy. She looked at least half-convinced and pulling Teddy into a squishy hug, she kissed his forehead and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Once alone with his cousin, Draco crouched down, and cupped Teddy’s cheeks, tenderly holding his cousin’s face in his hands. Teddy was the epitome of misery, and Draco felt his heart crack a little in his chest. It lurched painfully as if somebody had purposefully dislodged it from its usual place.

“How are you, little man?” he asked.

Teddy responded with a dry retch and a thoroughly pitiful expression.

Without a second thought, Draco summoned his coffee mug, vanished its contents and transformed it into a bowl, which he thrust in front of Teddy.

A few minutes later, it became apparent that Teddy’s stomach was empty and that no amount of retching would produce any more than vile-tasting bile.

Draco disappeared the foul-smelling contents of the bowl, and making a mental note to purchase a new mug for his office, he gently wiped Teddy’s face and offered him a bit of freshly cooled water from a carafe that always stood on a small table beside his desk.

“That better?” he asked.

Teddy nodded and gingerly climbed onto the chair in front of his desk and curled into a small ball of misery.

“My tummy hurts,” he mumbled.

Draco sighed.

“Best get you home, huh? Sitting in my office while I work isn’t going to help you get better. Just give me a couple of minutes to gather a few things, and we’ll be on our way.”

“We aren’t going to floo, are we?”

Teddy looked at him with pleading eyes and Draco’s already-cracked heart, twisted painfully in his chest.

He shook his head.

“No, little man. Apparition is out, too. I think we’ll take Muggle transport.”

Teddy’s eyes sparkled a little, although it was barely noticeable.

“The tube?” he asked.

Draco stopped sorting through the files on his desk and looked at his cousin.

“Do you want to? I thought a taxi might be faster.”

Teddy appeared to consider the two options for a while, then shrugged.

“Taxi, I suppose,” he said.

Draco nodded.

He bent over the side of the desk and pulling one of the larger drawers open, he dragged a leather briefcase out of it and kicked the drawer shut again. The bag, which he hardly ever used, came with a handy expansion charm as well as a lightening charm. It made it very handy to transport documents between Grimmauld Place, the Manor, and the Ministry.

After a few minutes of gathering up all the documents he needed, and stuffing them into the briefcase, Draco was ready to leave. He took Teddy’s hand, informed his secretary and his legal assistant that he’d be working from home for the rest of the day, and dispatched an inter-departmental memo to Harry’s office to let him know that Teddy was poorly and at home with him.

They existed the Ministry through the visitor’s entrance and managed to get a taxi rather quickly. Draco checked to ensure that he had enough money, advised the driver of where to take them and then sat back. Teddy curled up on the seat beside him, looking thoroughly unwell and Draco gently caressed his pale cheek and combed his fingers through Teddy’s hair.

It didn’t take long for Teddy to fall asleep and when they pulled up in front of Number 13 Grimmauld Place, Draco had to carry his cousin out of the car. He somehow managed to get Teddy inside Number 12 without dropping the sleeping child or his briefcase. Not bothering to discard his shoes in the hallway, like he usually did, Draco merely put his bag down, then carried Teddy straight through and into the living room.

There, the gently placed him on the sofa, divested him off his shoes and summoned a blanket to keep him warm. He also eased a pillow underneath Teddy’s head and checking one last time that his cousin was comfortable, Draco left the room and headed down the small flight of stairs and into the kitchen.

He washed and dried his hands, then looked around the room and sighed.

“Coffee first,” he mumbled.

Less than ten minutes later, Draco leant against the kitchen worktop and sipped on a double espresso. He finished it quickly enough and cleaning the small cup, he left it out to dry, then headed back into the living room to check on Teddy. He was still sleeping peacefully and smiling down at him, Draco nodded to himself, turned on his heel and returned to the hallway to take his shoes off.

Moving them to the shoe rack inside the walk-in closet near the front door, Draco levitated his briefcase into the living room, then returned to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He wasn’t especially hungry, and with Teddy being so unwell, Draco didn’t see the point in cooking anything. He suspected that once Teddy woke up, he’d probably ask for a slice of dry toast.

Beyond _it could get late, I’m sorry, my love_, he didn’t know when exactly Harry would be back, and it was still too early to contemplate what to prepare for tea. Pottering about the kitchen, Draco helped himself to two slices of crunchy brown whole-wheat bread and topped them with some soft-ripened and creamy Bleu de Bresse. He also brewed a pot of coffee and cut up a medium-sized carrot.

Once everything was ready, Draco set the kitchen table for himself, then checked in on Teddy. Since his little cousin was still fast asleep, Draco made his way back into the kitchen and ate there, browsing through an interrogation report, he’d retrieved from his briefcase. He took his time to finish his light lunch and left the dirty dishes sitting on the table while he continued perusing the file and summoning a pen, he made a few side notes for future reference.

At around one pm, Draco finally rose from the wooden chair, stretched and yawned and carried his empty plate to the sink, where he washed it and left it sitting in the dish drainer to dry. He refilled his coffee mug, and gathering up the beige case folder and all of its contents, Draco left the kitchen and returned to the living room.

As he walked in, Teddy rolled onto his back, stretched and slowly opening his eyes, he looked at Draco with a thoroughly sleepy expression.

Draco smiled at once.

“Hey there, little man. Feeling a bit better yet?”

Teddy hummed, rolled onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow. He stretched again, then lay on his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

“Can I watch a bit of telly?” he asked.

His voice sounded a bit raspy and full of sleep and walking over to the sofa, Draco set his coffee mug down on a coaster and placed his case file next to it. He sat down on the sofa and ruffled Teddy’s hair affectionately. Teddy’s lips curled upwards and into a soft, sleepy smile.

_No surprise Harry is absolutely smitten with you_, Draco thought, _it’s so incredibly easy to fall in love with you_. Teddy was utterly perfect, and out of all the children that usually chased each other around the Burrow at every family gathering, he most definitely was Draco’s favourite. Whenever Harry didn’t tease him about being intentionally biased, he liked to commend him for his excellent taste, and the memory of that conversation always made Draco smile. Teddy loved Harry more than anything, and Harry loved his godson just as much, if not more.

Whenever Draco watched the two of them interact, he couldn’t help but fall in love with both of them. Theirs was a tender relationship made out of unconditional love. Even though Teddy was officially an orphan, having lost both his parents in the war, Harry always found new ways to ensure that Teddy knew he was loved, wanted, and cared for. In return, Teddy, despite his young age, had a great deal of respect for Harry and wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. He was a bright young child, and he possessed a very rare and unique brand of magic. He was also curious and incredibly witty.

Teddy was due to start his magical education at Hogwarts next year, and Draco knew for a fact that Harry hated the idea of accompanying his godson to King’s Cross and putting him onto the Hogwarts Express. Teddy living with his grandmother and visiting every other weekend was one thing, Teddy spending most of the year up in Scotland roaming about the corridors of a medieval castle and learning how to wield a wand was a different thing altogether.

“What would you like to watch?” Draco asked.

He was conscious of the fact that he’d allowed his mind to wander a bit and therefore still owed his cousin an answer.

Teddy shrugged.

“Dunno, something funny.”

Draco chuckled.

“Alright then, something funny it is. Now, I don’t think daytime television will be all that entertaining, but I’m sure we’ll find something suitable for you.”

Draco summoned the TV remote from the mantelpiece and switching the television on, he zapped through a few channels until Teddy eventually demanded to watch _The Last Unicorn_, an animated musical that had just started on one of the kids’ channels. He shuffled on the sofa and moving closer to Draco, he curled up beside him, boldly claiming Draco’s thigh as his pillow, and using the large blanket to cover the rest of him.

Ruffling Teddy’s hair, Draco followed the film for a few minutes, then shifted a little, and put the remote control down on the coffee table in front of him. He reached for his case file and summoned his briefcase, then leafed through the documents and was about to skim over another interrogation report when Teddy rolled onto his back and looked up at him.

“Uncle D.”

Inwardly, Draco cringed. Outwardly, he smiled.

“Yes, Teddy?”

“Why do Muggles make films about unicorns. Aren’t they magical creatures?”

Draco chuckled.

“Ah yes, they are one of the wizarding world’s worst-kept secrets. Muggles believe unicorns to be magical creatures, but most of them have never actually seen one. Muggle children think they are real, adults think they only exist in fairy tales.”

“Have you ever seen a unicorn?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, they are stunningly beautiful. Unicorns are so precious, looking at them will simply take your breath away. You know, my great-great-grandmother kept a few unicorns on a secluded pasture in the forest near Malfoy Manor. She loved those creatures and would spend hours with them, petting them and telling them stories. Unicorns prefer a woman’s touch, so they didn’t mind having her around. When I was young, I spent hours begging her portraits for stories about the unicorns.”

“Did you have a favourite story?”

Draco smiled.

“Yes. My great-great-grandmother once witnessed a unicorn birth. When a unicorn foal is born, it is pure gold in colour and looks strikingly similar to a horse.”

“Completely golden?” Teddy asked, his eyes wide and curious.

Draco nodded.

“Yes. They remain that way until they’re about two years old, then they turn silver. At around four years old, their horn starts to grow, and it takes about three years for it to grow out fully. Once that has happened, they turn a shade of pure white. It’s so bright that it makes freshly-fallen snow look grey.”

“Are there still unicorns in the Forbidden Forest.”

“I believe so, yes. But don’t you get any ideas, young man. Harry will have my head if I encourage you to venture into the Forbidden Forest in search of a unicorn. Besides, I’m pretty sure that your Care of Magical Creatures professor will cover unicorns in his class. They are exactly the kind of animal Hagrid would include in his curriculum.”

“What about Hippogriffs?”

Draco groaned.

“What sort of bees has Harry filled your bonnet with now?”

Teddy frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Draco chuckled.

“Nothing, Teddy, nothing. I’m sure Hagrid will cover Hippogriffs as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if he talks Charlie into showing you all a real-life dragon.”

Teddy grinned.

“I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts.”

“You’ll have a blast, I’m sure.”

Teddy abruptly fell silent. He turned his head to look at the TV and a few minutes of silence past between them, then he looked back up at Draco.

“Uncle D, I’ll miss Harry. And you. Will you both come to visit like every week?”

Draco smiled and combed his fingers through Teddy’s hair. It was still mouse-grey in colour, but it didn’t look quite so lifeless anymore.

“I’m not sure we’ll manage to come up every week, but we’ll visit. There’s nothing that’ll stop your godfather from seeing you, Teddy, you know that.”

“But what about you? Will you visit too?”

“Do you want me to?”

Teddy nodded vigorously.

“Please.”

“If you want me to come and visit, I absolutely will. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You must be a good boy. Make loads of friends, study hard, and don’t get into any trouble. If Madame Pomfrey firecalls to say you had some sort of accident, you’ll give Harry a heart attack.”

Teddy grinned.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes and Draco pointedly swallowed a sigh.

“If I get in trouble, will Harry visit more often?”

Draco considered the question for a few seconds and tried to think of an appropriate way to answer it. The answer, of course, was yes, but since he didn’t want to encourage Teddy, Draco decided on a mature response.

“No, but Nana Tonks will.”

Teddy grimaced a face.

“I’d rather not. I mean I love Nana Tonks, but she’s seriously scary when she’s angry.”

“You won’t want to meet Nana Cissy then.”

“Nana Cissy is your mother, right?”

Draco nodded.

“Right.”

He’d spoken to both Andromeda and his mother a few times, trying to entice both sisters to bury the hatchet and meet up and while both of them were willing to let bygones be bygones, Draco could tell that both women were a bit scared of being in the same room with each other. He’d spoken to Harry about it, and he’d suggested organising a dinner here at the house but so far, they had yet to work out the logistics of that particular dinner party. Harry had jokingly suggested that they invite Molly as well, and Draco had nearly whacked him around the head for uttering such complete nonsense. He didn’t think that those three women should ever be in the same room with each other, at least not without about one hundred other people to act as buffer and barrier.

“Is Nana Cissy very strict?” Teddy asked, dragging Draco away from his thoughts again.

“Yes and no. It depends. She can be a lot of fun too. If you want, I’ll take you to meet her one of these days, and you can find out for yourself.”

“Can Harry come too?”

Draco smiled.

“Of course. We can all have tea together next Sunday if you like. Actually, maybe you can help me convince Nana Tonks to come too.”

“I think I can do that.”

Draco winked.

“Perfect.”

Teddy turned his attention back to the film on TV, and for a while silence settled around them. Draco went back to perusing his work-related files and a good half an hour past until Teddy scrambled off the sofa and left the room to visit the loo. When he returned a few minutes later, he asked for a slice of dry toast, and they both headed into the kitchen, where Draco suggested that Teddy take a stomach-settling potion first. Since the tonic was somewhat bitter, Draco added two teaspoons of sugar, mixed it carefully, and then prepared some toast for Teddy.

He allowed his cousin to eat his late lunch in front of the TV in the living room and afterwards, they chatted a little more about Hogwarts. Teddy wondered which house he might end up in, and upon enquiring, Draco found out that Teddy didn’t want to be sorted into Gryffindor. He suggested Slytherin, but Teddy pulled a face and said that he wasn’t particularly fond of snakes. Draco chuckled and eventually eased Teddy’s worries by telling him that the Sorting Hat would find a suitable fit for him and that he needn’t worry about it.

Sometime after that conversation, Teddy fell back asleep and napped for a little over an hour. After waking up again, he asked for another slice of toast and Draco went into the kitchen to make it for him while Teddy dashed upstairs and into his room to fetch his colour pencils. Draco retrieved a few blank pages of parchment from Harry’s study and Teddy settled on the shaggy rug at Draco’s feet and quietly humming to himself, he began to draw on the paper.

Draco watched him for a while, then turned his attention back to his work and skimmed over several extremely dry and overly wordy interrogation reports. They were so dull that Draco’s eyes started to feel heavy, and yawning, he resolutely dragged himself into the kitchen to brew a fresh batch of coffee.

When he returned with a full pot of steaming hot coffee in his left hand and his favourite mug in his right hand, Teddy was still on the floor in front of the coffee table, quietly colouring and drawing.

He’d drawn a castle on a hill and while it looked nothing like Hogwarts for Teddy had never seen the castle, it was still pretty impressive. Harry was adamant that Teddy should wait until his first day to see Hogwarts since he wanted his godson to have that moment of pure awe when Hagrid took the first-year students across the Black Lake.

Draco smiled to himself. Nearly twenty years had gone by since he’d first seen Hogwarts, but even though he’d downplayed it at the time to appear cool, he’d been thoroughly excited.

Moving a bit closer, Draco could see that Teddy was using a pencil to reaffirm some of the outlines of what appeared to be a ghost yet wasn’t quite that. Teddy had drawn a little man with wickedly slanted eyes. He was dressed in loud, outlandish clothes including a bell-covered hat and an over-sized rather ridiculous-looking bow tie. The not-quite-ghost had wild bushy black hair and an obnoxiously large nose.

Draco set the pot of coffee down on the table and ruffled Teddy’s hair affectionately.

“You know, that looks a bit like Peeves,” he said.

Teddy looked up from his parchment and grinned.

“That’s the poltergeist at Hogwarts, right?” Teddy asked.

Draco nodded.

“Harry’s been telling you stories, I assume.”

“And Nana Tonks. And Nana Molly. And Granddad Arthur.”

Draco chuckled.

“Just don’t listen to Uncle George or Uncle Ron.”

Teddy pulled a face.

“Harry says that too,” he said. “But he won’t tell me why?”

Draco lifted his coffee mug to his mouth, inhaled deeply, and then took a few small sips.

“And neither will I.”

Teddy’s pout almost made him reconsider, but he remained firm and shook his head, even when his little cousin pleaded with him to divulge some of the secrets his godfather clearly refused to share with him. Shaking his head, Draco crouched down beside Teddy and shuffling into a kneeling position, he drew his wand, lightly tapped the parchment in front of Teddy and mumbled an incantation.

The poltergeist on the parchment began to move, and a speech bubble with the word BOO appeared beside his head while his mouth repeatedly made an o-shape.

Teddy giggled softly and putting his pencil down, he lifted the parchment off the table and admired his now animated drawing closely. When he brushed his fingers over the poltergeist, it flinched and grimaced, then laughed.

“It’s ticklish!” Teddy exclaimed.

“It would appear so,” Draco said with a smile.

“How did you do that?”

Teddy’s excitement was evident, and his hair colour changed from mouse-grey to a very light shade of brown.

Draco grinned and shook his head ominously.

“Not telling. Professor Flitwick will teach you when you start your charms lessons next year.”

Teddy looked at him with a massive pout that actually melted Draco’s heart, but he remained stout. There was really no point in teaching Teddy the incantation. He didn’t have a wand just yet and wouldn’t be able to practise the spell anyway.

“You and Harry are so mean; you won’t ever teach me any magic.”

Teddy put the parchment down and crossed his arms over his chest.

Draco chuckled.

“I’ll teach you something else. Something a lot more useful. You’ve heard about Peeves, right?”

Teddy nodded.

“Well, he isn’t a huge fan of rules. He never disobeyed Professor Dumbledore when he was still alive, and he does usually, albeit reluctantly, listen to the other professors and agrees to stay out of their classrooms when they’re teaching. The only person, well ghost, who really knows how to control him is the Bloody Baron, but Slytherin students know a little secret that none of the other houses ever discovered.”

Draco winked, and Teddy’s eyes lid up like a Christmas tree. He clapped his hands in excitement.

“Tell me!”

Draco laughed.

He leant closer, and even though the two of them were the only ones in the room, he whispered a short phrase into Teddy’s ear.

“Did you get that?”

Teddy nodded his head quite vigorously.

“I did.”

“Remember it well. If Peeves ever gives you trouble, you just tell him that, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Does Harry know?”

Draco shook his head.

“Nope, your godfather has no clue. Peeves used to love giving him trouble.”

Teddy grinned.

“I don’t think I’ll tell him.”

Draco chuckled and put his coffee mug down. He hugged Teddy and kissed his cheek.

“Our little secret,” he whispered.

Teddy snuggled into him, and for a little moment, they simply sat together on the floor, embracing each other. Draco felt oddly content and at home. Taking care of Teddy wasn’t an unwanted chore, and it didn’t feel tedious either. It just felt right. Harry loved telling him that he belonged right here with him and Draco couldn’t stop thinking that whenever Teddy came around to spend a weekend with them, they were the perfect little family. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but in their own unique way, they were a family. Harry wasn’t only Teddy’s godfather, no, he was also a father figure. He most definitely loved spoiling Teddy, but he also took his parental responsibilities rather series.

On paper, Harry was, along with Andromeda Tonks, Teddy’s legal guardian and in the eye of the law, he had all the rights any biological parent had. There were only two reasons why Teddy lived with his grandmother; she didn’t work, and her house was closer to Teddy’s primary school and the Burrow. Draco knew that Harry would love to have Teddy stay with him fulltime, but Harry’s job made that virtually impossible and at this point in time quitting wasn’t an option. Still, Harry made every effort to find time for Teddy, and it was one of the many things that Draco loved about him.

Harry never ignored the people and the things that were important to him and had a special place in his heart. He scheduled his time accordingly and painstakingly made an effort to put everyone he loved and cared about first.

While his work governed a lot of his time, including some of his personal time, he made a point to make his loved ones the precious gift of being there for them. Harry wasn’t the type of person who placed importance on how many galleons he had in his vault or what material things he could purchase with all the money he had at his disposal.

He certainly cared about his outfits and good food as well taking a well-deserved holiday to recharge his batteries, but those were things he’d earnt for himself, and they were completely justifiable. It was also one of the many things Draco loved about Harry and their relationship. Harry never ignored him or made him feel unwelcome. He invested his time and his love into the relationship to ensure it continued to blossom and in return, Draco did the same.

It was one of the many reasons why they worked. Besides their solid foundation, they simply enjoyed spending time together, and no matter how busy life got, Harry found ways and means to arrange playtime, time for romance, family time, and time for each of them to do whatever they needed to do to recharge their own batteries.

“Uncle D.”

“Hm?”

Draco snapped out of his thoughts.

He looked at Teddy and grinned.

“You have such a goofy smile on your face right now.”

Draco chuckled.

“Do I?”

Teddy nodded.

“Yes. Can I ask you something, Uncle D?”

“Always.”

“You really love Harry, don’t you?”

Draco smiled.

“What makes you ask that?”

Teddy shrugged.

“Just curious.”

“I see. Well, if you’re that curious. Yes. I really do love Harry. He’s wonderful.”

Teddy nodded with great enthusiasm.

“Harry’s bloody fantastic.”

Draco grimaced and clicked his tongue.

“Just because Uncle Ron loves using ‘bloody’ every two seconds you don’t need to do the same, young man,” he chided.

Teddy blushed a little and chewed on his lower lip.

“Sorry, Uncle D.”

Draco ruffled Teddy’s hair and kissed the top of his head.

“It’s alright. Sometimes it’s OK to use the one or the other bad word, but be careful who hears it. Some people are easily offended, and others don’t like it at all.”

“’K. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good boy.”

Draco reached for his coffee and taking a few sips, he took one of Teddy’s colour pencils, a black one, and doodled a broomstick and a flying Snitch in one of the corners of the parchment. The broomstick flew around the castle, and the Golden Snitch whizzed around Peeves’ head. The poltergeist tried catching the flying ball but ended up stumbling over his own feet instead.

Teddy chuckled, then abruptly turned his head and asked a question that had Draco nearly choke on his coffee.

“Are you going to marry Harry?”

Draco coughed and spluttered into his mug. He swallowed a mixture of spit and coffee, set the cup down on a coaster, and summoning a tissue, he wiped his mouth.

“Whatever makes you ask me that?”

Teddy shrugged.

“You said you love Harry. He always says he loves you. People who love each other get married…”

Teddy trailed off, scrunched up his face in thought and looked somewhat concerned.

“I know you’re a man, and Harry is a man, uhm, does that mean you can’t get married? Is that why you only live together?”

Draco wanted to smile, but the question was so damn serious, and Teddy was still so damn young yet so utterly world-smart that Draco couldn’t help but take his cousin seriously.

He smiled.

“We can get married. There’s no wizarding law that stops two wizards or two witches from marrying each other. There has never been such a ban, and there will never be such a ban.”

“Phew, that’s good, because I think I’d have to have a word with Uncle Kings if that was the case. Everyone should be allowed to get married if they want to.”

Draco laughed then abruptly turned his head in surprise when Harry’s imposingly deep and beautifully full laugh filled the room.

“Coming home from a long day in the field to find my two favourite boys sat on the floor, talking about marriage equality has got to be the best thing to ever happen to me!”

“HARRY!”

Teddy was on his feet, flying through the room faster than Draco could get up. Deciding not to bother, he simply remained sitting on the floor and leaning back against the sofa, Draco watched as Harry stepped into the room. He caught Teddy in the nick of time, lifted him up and twirled him around the room, then showered him with kisses and hugged him tightly.

With Teddy’s limbs tightly wrapped around his torso, Harry walked further into the room, crouched down beside Draco and leant in to give him a kiss which Draco, rather willingly, reciprocated. It was a rather tame kiss, but Draco relished in it anyway.

“You said you’d be back late,” he said quietly.

Harry sighed and stretched his legs out.

“Glasgow was a bust. Got back early, found your note and came straight home. What happened?”

“Teddy got sick at school, and Andromeda had a meeting with Shacklebolt and couldn’t look after him. Figured he’d be miserable at the office, watching me work, so we took a taxi home. He napped, had some food, watched a bit of TV and we did some colouring.”

“Sounds like my two favourite boys had a great time together. Thanks for doing this.”

Draco smiled.

“You are family,” he said with a sheepish grin.

Before Harry could respond to that, Teddy piqued up and instead excitedly shared his opinion.

“You are two dorks in love!”

Draco failed to suppress his laughter and snorted, and Harry turned his head and raised an eyebrow at his godson.

“And who taught you to say that?” he asked, injecting a bit of an authoritative undertone in his voice.

Teddy blushed.

“Erm…”

“Yes?”

“UncleCharliesaidnottosayhesaidthat,” Teddy mumbled under his breath.

Draco nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter and Harry rolled his eyes at both of them, then sighed.

“Fantastic, I come home to find that my boyfriend has gone insane and my godson has turned into a parrot and repeats every single inappropriate thing his uncles teach him whenever he hangs out at the Burrow.”

“Harry,” Teddy said with a pout.

“Can you make Spaghetti Bolognese for tea tonight?” he asked, changing the topic yet again.

Harry instantly shook his head.

“Absolutely not. If you’ve been sick this morning then you can have plain porridge, plain rice or a banana and apple mix, or more toast, but most definitely no Spaghetti Bolognese.”

Teddy pulled a face.

“Not fair,” he said with a sullen expression.

Harry grinned.

“Yes, fair. You get over that stomach bug of yours first and then we’ll talk―”

Teddy opened his mouth in an attempt to protest, but Harry simply placed a single finger over his godson’s lips and silenced him that way and Draco watched and smiled to himself.

“Your protest is of no use here, Teddy Lupin. For now, I make the rules.”

“Hmpf, I like Uncle D better.”

Teddy continued sulking and scrambling off Harry’s lap, he drawled into Draco’s and threw his arms around him. Draco returned the unexpected hug and immediately clarified that he wouldn’t be persuaded to cook Spaghetti Bolognese either.

Teddy merely shrugged.

“I still like you better.”

Harry looked at them both and shaking his head, he got to his feet.

“You two are the perfect pair, I’m going upstairs to have a shower. Any chance I might find tea on the kitchen table when I come down again?”

Harry raised one eyebrow at Draco in a silent question, and Draco nodded.

“I’ll whip something up. Any special requests?”

Harry shook his head.

“Nope, anything you put on the table will do, I’m starving. Thank you, my love.”

“Not a bother.”

Harry placed one hand on the coffee table and leaning down, he kissed Draco on the lips, then ruffled Teddy’s hair.

“I’ll be about half an hour,” he said and left.

Draco looked at Teddy, squished his face and grinned.

“Will you help me cook tea for Harry?”

Teddy nodded.

“Yup.”

“Great, let’s go.”

* * *

* * *


	5. A Family Heirloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, or doesn't it?  
I can't believe how many of you went crazy over discovering that I'm posting a sequel and I'm utterly floored (again!) that you're willing to go on another rollercoaster ride with me and the lads. **THANK YOU** so much for all your love and support. You are all absolutely freaking amazing and I don't know what I've done to deserve so much love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

“Draco?”

Narcissa ’s crisp, soft voice drifted through Malfoy Manor’s vast library, and Draco reluctantly dragged his attention away from the large, weighty, scholarly tome. He’d heaved down from one of the upper bookshelves in the hope to find a few more details about an old pureblood wizarding law in it, but so far, he hadn’t had any luck yet.

He placed the Eagle feather pen, he’d been toying with, on top of some blank parchment and lightly ran his fingers along the quill’s vane. At first glance, the pen looked like any ordinary wizarding quill but was a perfectly non-magical writing utensil. He’d come across it in a fancy Muggle Pen Boutique on a recent shopping trip to Notting Hill with Harry. The Muggle quill had been on display in the shop’s window, and it had instantly caught his attention. It came with a refillable cartridge that rendered always keeping an open inkpot around unnecessary.

“Hm?”

Verbally acknowledging his mother’s presence, Draco turned around and smiled at the tiny blank kitten, his mother had recently adopted. She’d apparently found it in one of the old stables inside the barn on the far side of the grounds. Upon his arrival earlier today, it had followed him from the Manor’s entrance hall all the way into the library. His mother had named the kitten, a female, Nightshade, although Draco preferred to call it Black Fluff, if only because it made his mother frown.

Black Fluff Nightshade Malfoy was presently curled up on a stack of old books in the top right corner of Draco’s reading desk but stirred and blinked sleepily when her new mother approached. It stretched, yawned, licked its right front paw, wiped it across its nose, then curled up and went back to sleep.

“A moment of your time, if you please?”

Draco nodded.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Narcissa produced a rather fragile-looking black velvet-covered ring box and gently placed it on the desk before him. It had been embroidered with the Malfoy family crest, and even though the ring box was old, the expensive silver embroidery thread still gleamed brightly in the reading lamp’s warm light. Draco suspected the thread had been charmed.

“It belonged to your great-great-grandfather on your father’s side. Lucius was supposed to give it to you on your seventeenth birthday, but what with the war and his arrest that never happened. I dug it out of our family vault at Gringotts, took me half a day to find it, and had it adjusted to fit you and polished.”

Draco smiled softly at his mother and reaching for the ring box, he carefully lifted its lid and found himself looking at a beautifully sparkling silver signet ring. It, too, bore the Malfoy family crest.

Years ago, when he’d attended Hogwarts, his father had given him a copy of his own signet ring. With it, Lucius had officially named him as the one and only Malfoy heir.

After the war, Draco had, in a fit of white-hot rage, tossed it into the angry foaming waves of the North Sea on his way out of Azkaban. Back then he’d barely been able to see through the tears streaming down his face. It had been just after his father had renounced him as his son for being gay.

Ever since that day, Draco had wanted nothing to do with any family heirlooms, Malfoy signet rings, or any other piece of jewellery that reminded him of his father or his status as the only living male heir of one of the oldest pureblood wizarding families in Europe. So far, his mother had respected his reluctance to wear anything that evoked the memory of his father.

Although Draco wasn’t exactly pleased to see the ring, he couldn’t bring himself to feel vexed over his mother’s tentative request. In the last decade, she’d made no other demands and accepted him for who he was and whom he loved. His happiness was more important to her than pressuring him into getting married and continuing the family line.

Draco gently touched his left index finger to the ring. It was cool to the touch, and even though he was slightly wary of putting it on, he couldn’t sense any hidden magic embedded within the classic piece of family jewellery. While that didn’t have to mean anything, he trusted his mother not to present him with a cursed Malfoy signet ring. Then again, he didn’t think there was any curse strong enough to turn him straight, charm him into marrying a beautiful pureblood witch, and father a child with her.

“It’s beautiful,” Draco said quietly.

His voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, but it didn’t have to be.

He rose from his chair and wordlessly enveloped his mother in a tight embrace. Draco was much taller and stronger than her, and at first, she squeaked in surprise, but then she relaxed into his impromptu embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled into him. They stood like this for a minute or two, then Draco pulled back and smiled at his mother.

“Thank you,” he said.

He leant in and placed a tender kiss on her right cheek, and she giggled.

“Charmer,” she said.

A faint blush graced her cheeks, and Draco winked at her.

“They teach that at the academy for gay wizards and lesbian witches.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes, and although she tried to suppress it, she still snorted with amusement. She took a moment to collect herself, and once she had, she smoothed out her dress and reached for the ring box.

“Will you wear it?”

Draco chuckled.

“Of course, I will, Mother,” he said.

He took the ring out of the ring box, admired it from several different angles, then allowed his mother to slip it onto the third finger of his left hand. He found it a bit odd that she'd chosen his wedding ring finger instead of his index finger but decided not to point particular minuscule matter out to her.

“So, does this now make me the Master of the Manor?” Draco asked cheekily.

Narcissa responded with a pointed look that spoke volumes.

“Draco, darling, you cannot be the Master of Malfoy Manor if you don’t live here.”

Draco chuckled.

“Point taken. As much as you’d love to have me around more, I don’t think anything will ever convince Harry to give up living in London and move to Wiltshire. You’ll have to content yourself with regular visits and a longer stay during the summer months.”

“Such is the plight of motherhood.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“It’s hardly a plight, Mother,” he said, and she smiled in response.

“Admittedly, with you, it isn’t. Have you found what you came to look for?”

Draco shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“I shall leave you to it then. Will you join me for tea in the winter garden later?”

“I’ll try my best, although you might have to come and remind me. Once I get lost in the research, I forget everything around me.”

Narcissa’s understanding smile warmed Draco’s heart, and when she reached out to squeeze his forearm, he placed his own hand on top of hers. She glanced down at his signet ring, and her smile grew tenfold.

“It suits you, Mr Malfoy,” she said.

Draco shuddered, then frowned.

“Please don’t use that form of address ever again, Mother.”

She smirked.

“I’ll try and resist. Is there any point to me firecalling Harry to invite him over for tea?”

Draco shook his head.

“He took a Portkey to Romania this morning to discuss something with Charlie. I doubt he’ll be back in time.”

“I see. Well, just the two of us then, nothing wrong with that.”

Draco nodded in silent agreement.

“That reminds me. How do you feel about meeting Teddy Lupin?”

“Harry’s godson?”

Draco inclined his head.

“And your sister Andromeda’s grandchild,” he said.

He noticed his mother’s slight flinch at the mention of her estranged sister but refrained from pointing it out to her.

“I’ve been telling him about Nana Cissy, and he’s rather excited to meet you.”

“Nana Cissy?!” she asked, properly cringing at the nickname.

“All the ways you could have chosen to get that child to address me and you come up with Nana Cissy. I’m not sure whether I should be offended or―”

“You should humour me,” Draco said, cutting his mother off.

Narcissa frowned in response.

“I told him your name was Narcissa, he decided to call you Nana Cissy―”

“And you, of course, didn’t think it necessary to correct the child.”

Draco shrugged.

He ignored his mother’s stern look and attempted to woo her with a sweet and innocent smile instead.

“There might be some truth in that last statement,” he said.

“Didn’t I know it!”

Draco grinned.

“You’ll love him.”

Narcissa chuckled.

“Bring the boy along whenever you want to, Draco, darling. I don’t mind in the slightest. The sooner, the better, it’ll be a good reminder for me to get over myself and get in touch with my sister. I want to try and see if we can call a truce. There’s so much history and bad blood between us, but I think Andromeda and I are both mature enough to try and put the past behind us.”

“Believe it or not, a while back, Harry and I talked about organising a dinner at the house for you and Nana Tonks―”

“Nana Tonks?” Narcissa interrupted with a somewhat disbelieving expression.

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Teddy calls her that.”

In response, his mother rolled his eyes.

“Sweet Mother of Merlin,” she said with a sigh. “That child…”

“Is the funniest child you’ll ever meet, Mother. I swear, it won’t take more than five minutes for you to fall head over heels in love with him. He possesses a strange sort of magic, it makes him instantly likeable. And I’m not talking about him being a Metamorphmagus.”

“It’s not magic, Draco, it’s a child’s innocence. There’s nothing quite like it, it’s virtually irresistible. It’s why I never quite managed to be properly mad at you whenever you turned the Manor upside down.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I was a very well-behaved child,” he said.

Narcissa laughed heartily.

“Yes, you just keep believing that, Draco, darling. I shan’t distract you any longer, but I wholeheartedly support the idea of you and Harry organising a reconciliation dinner. I leave the planning in yours and Harry’s capable hands and promise to be on my best behaviour throughout. Restoring friendly relations with your estranged sister while in the company of the Head of the Auror Department and a hotshot prosecutor is the best incentive to encourage a successful outcome.”

This time, it was Draco’s turn to laugh. He leant in and placed another kiss on his mother’s cheek, then shooed her away. She gave him a pointed look, but turned and crossed the room. At the door of the library, with her hand already on the handle, she turned and looked at him.

“Just this once, I’ll let you boss me around, Master Malfoy,” she said, and before Draco had the chance to react to her blatant teasing, she slipped through a gap in the door and was gone.

As if on cue, Black Fluff Nightshade Malfoy woke from her slumber, stretched luxuriously and jumped off the reading desk. With her tail pointed straight up and the tip of it curled, she strode towards the door and squeezed through the tiny gap, his mother had left behind for her.

Draco shook his head.

He glanced down at the signet ring on his finger, twisted it a little, then sat back down and resumed his research.

A few minutes later, a house-elf appeared in the library and served him a bottle of lemon-infused cooled water and a cup of cappuccino. Draco thanked the elf, and after it had disappeared, he brought his coffee up to his lips, smiled, and thanked his lucky stars for his mother. She was, despite all her oddities, a real treasure and one he could not imagine ever living without. Even at nearly thirty years of age, he couldn’t imagine a life that completely excluded his mother. He loved her too much for that to ever be a possibility.

* * *

* * *

Harry took Draco’s left hand into his own, lifted it up, and inspected the Malfoy signet ring that now adorned the third finger of his left hand carefully.

“It suits you,” he said.

He turned his head sideways, looked at Draco, and holding his gaze, he smiled softly.

“My gorgeous little prince.”

Draco’s cheeks coloured a little in response to the compliment. They always did whenever Harry used his pet name. With it came a certain kind of intimacy that they both found irresistible.

Harry shuffled a little closer, and throwing his leg over Draco’s thighs, he propped himself up on his elbow and leant down to place a kiss on Draco’s gloriously soft lips.

The night was still young, but Harry didn’t care. He’d happily spend all day and all night in bed with Draco with his arms wrapped around his perfect little prince. There was nothing better than spooning around Draco, holding him tight and feeling him curl into the embrace. Harry's possessive and protective sides thrived on being close to Draco. It felt like getting high on the sweetest yet most addictive drug the world had on offer.

Upon his return from visiting Charlie in Romania, he’d found Draco reclining in their bathtub upstairs. After a long day of research, he’d decided to treat himself to a luxurious soak with aromatic essential oils, a glass of red wine and some relaxing music playing in the background. Harry hadn’t been able to find fault with that. He loved spoiling Draco, and he loved it when Draco indulged in things that made him happy. Everyone deserved a bit of pampering every now and then.

Draco had looked so thoroughly inviting that Harry had simply stripped naked and climbed into the bath with him. He hadn't even waited for an invitation. Once he’d settled behind Draco and pulled him into his arms, he’d proceeded to snog him senseless, and after their long bath, he’d been very tempted to take Draco up to the playroom but conscious of the fact that Draco had indulged in a large glass of red wine, he’d taken him to bed instead. Draco had been more than happy to remain naked and very willing to spend the evening snuggling in bed.

They'd both had a long day, and both felt tired, but not tired enough to sleep. Harry was feeling a bit mischievous, too. He kissed Draco again and trailing his fingertips along the side of Draco’s neck, he smiled softly.

Draco parted his lips ever so slightly, and the tip of his perfect pink tongue appeared. He ran it along his lips, wetting them and Harry caressed his cheek.

“You look stunning tonight,” he whispered.

Draco hummed softly, and Harry kissed him again.

He let his hand trail along Draco’s collarbone, and down the length of his arm. When he reached Draco’s hand, he toyed with those delicate long slender fingers, he loved so much. He squeezed Draco’s hand lightly, then slowly pulled it up and out from beneath the light blanket, he’d dragged up around them a little while ago when Draco had confessed that he felt a little chilly. He placed Draco’s arm on the pillow above his head, and Draco didn’t move it and didn’t object to him taking charge.

Before climbing into bed, Harry had put on a pair of black boxer briefs and a matching t-shirt, but Draco was still completely naked.

After they’d climbed out of the bath and dried each other, Harry had asked him not to put any clothes on, and Draco had, rather willingly, complied with his request, and when Draco had suggestively crawled onto the bed and curled up beside him, it had taken Harry several minutes to scrape the remnants of his sanity back off the floor. He still wasn't sure whether he'd managed to glue all the pieces back together. Draco had the uncanny ability to make him lose all of his bearings just by being himself and showing him how comfortable he felt in his own skin.

“Sir.”

One whispered word was all it took for Harry to fall apart again and lifting his head a little, he looked down at Draco and held his gaze for the longest time.

“I’m yours if you want me.”

Harry swallowed hard and hummed. That invitation was one he could not resist. 

“I’ll always want you, my little prince,” he said.

His voice was warm, soft, low and husky with a reassuring undertone.

In response to that, Draco dragged his other hand out from underneath the blanket and placed it above his head. He did so entirely out of his own volition and without Harry prompting him to do so. The submissive gesture caused Harry’s heart to skip a beat, and he claimed Draco’s lips in a very possessive kiss. There was only one reoccurring thought running rampant inside his head, _this man's mine, mine, mine_.

“You’re divine, absolutely divine,” he whispered.

Draco mewled softly and blinked at him.

His cheeks flushed further.

Up until now, a light shade of pink had graced them, but it became a lot more pronounced. Harry was thoroughly addicted to watching Draco blush. It always took his breath away, and there was next to nothing he could do about stopping that reaction. Then again, he had no reason and no desire to try and control the way his body and mind reacted around his perfect little prince.

Draco’s silvery-grey eyes were dark with anticipation and full to the brim with love and trust and desire. Harry’s heart melted into a pile of completely useless goo, and the butterflies in the pit of his stomach fluttered madly and with a ferocious sort in intensity that set the rest of his body on fire.

He captured Draco’s lips in yet another kiss.

This one was quite possessive and passionate in nature, and when he pulled away, Draco was slightly breathless, and his pupils had dilated a little further, making his eyes appear almost black. Harry caressed his flushed cheeks, teased his fingertips down Draco’s neck and without breaking their eye contact, he drew an ancient rune onto Draco’s chest and murmured an incantation to activate it.

When he dragged his fingers an inch closer to Draco’s nipples, Draco gasped, and his eyes widened.

Harry smirked.

“You know the spell, my little prince, don’t you?” he taunted.

Draco nodded.

“Ready to let me have some fun?”

Draco blinked.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered, slightly breathlessly.

Harry set out to explore Draco’s chest with just his fingertips and his nails, and except for Draco’s nipples, he teased every inch of it.

Draco gasped and shuddered and keened softly. Harry could feel his entire body come alive and he’d barely done anything to make Draco fall apart. Well, he’d cast a sneaky little spell. One that amplified the sensations of his touch, but that was about all he’d done, yet Draco’s breathing was laboured, and his eyes had turned completely black and burned with intense desire, devotion, and the need to submit even further.

A few moments later, when Harry finally grazed Draco’s sensitive nipples with his fingertips, his gasps turned into a low, drawn-out moan, and Harry smiled.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, my little prince?” he asked.

Draco nodded and licked his lips.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, because I’ve no intention of stopping any time soon,” Harry said.

He purposefully made Draco aware of the fact that he was in for a whole lot of teasing.

Draco inhaled sharply and just as he did, Harry squeezed and twisted his left nipple. The spell intensified the pressure, and the pain and Draco gasped and arched his back a little. He didn't draw away from the exquisite sensations of pain but rather pushed into it, wordlessly showing Harry that he wanted more, craved to remain on that sweet, fine line that ran between pain and pleasure, a line that was rapidly blurring and slowly disappearing altogether.

He moaned, and Harry repeated the action a second time and then a third.

After that, he paused and covered Draco’s chest with kisses. As he did so, he slowly worked his way to Draco’s right nipple, and instead of squeezing and twisting it, he flicked his tongue over it, licked it and then bit it hard.

“_Ngh_!”

Draco’s exclamation filled the room, lingered, and Harry smiled against his nipple.

He dragged his lips up to Draco’s mouth and kissed him deeply and with fervent enthusiasm.

As he wound his tongue around Draco’s, he rolled on top of him, straddled his hips and pinned his hands into the pillow above his head. He could feel Draco’s arousal press against the inside of his thigh and grinding down on it, he claimed all of Draco all at once.

Harry took his sweet time and dragged the kiss out until they’d both run out of oxygen and his lungs burned, demanding fresh air. He pulled away, breathed deeply and watched Draco do the same, then ran his hands along Draco’s arms, over his chest and down to his hips. Squeezing them, he shuffled and settled between Draco’s legs, pushing his thighs apart as he did so and causing a delicious burning sensation as he spread Draco open for his own viewing pleasure. He dragged his fingernails over the inside of Draco’s thighs and delighted in the low deep groan that left Draco’s mouth.

“Let’s see how much teasing you can take before you start begging, my little prince.”

Harry whispered his promise into his and Draco’s dimly-lit bedroom and watched Draco’s eyes widen in response. He gasped and licked his reddened, kiss-swollen lips in silent anticipation.

It was just the sort of encouragement; Harry was looking for, and he proceeded to use his hands to torment Draco in the best possible way. He simply used them to caress every inch of him, although from this moment on Harry avoided touching Draco’s nipples and he never once went anywhere near his cock or his balls. The closest Harry came to touching it was when he repeatedly dragged his nails over the inside of Draco’s thighs. He left distinctive red marks behind, and when he told Draco how beautiful he looked like this, Draco moaned, shuddered and arched his back, silently begging for _more, more, more_.

In response, Harry peppered Draco’s milky-white skin, with kisses and left several bite marks behind. He sucked at the skin on Draco’s neck until it turned purple and did the same to the inside of Draco’s upper arms, his sides and his thighs.

“Please, Sir, please,” Draco begged.

Judging by the hungry and pleading look on his face, he was clearly unable to take much more of Harry’s teasing, and Harry smirked.

“Please _what_?” he asked, deliberately pushing Draco to be more concise about what it was he obviously wanted.

“Please, just, please, anything.”

“I think what I’m doing to you right now falls into the category of _anything_, my sweet little prince.”

“_Ngh_, Sir, please, just―”

Draco trailed off and inhaled deeply.

“What is it you want, my love? You know all you have to do is ask. If you ask nicely, and I believe you will, I’m unlikely to turn your request down.”

Harry teased his fingertips up and down Draco’s torso, and Draco moaned softly in response to the light touch, and Harry marvelled at how easily and willingly Draco came undone for him. It was a reaction Harry refused to take for granted. He cherished that openness between him and Draco and it often gave him pause.

“Please touch my cock, Sir, please.”

Harry smiled.

“What a good boy you are, my little prince, using _please_ and _Sir_ to ask for what you want. How could I possibly deny you when you’re this perfect?”

Draco mewled softly, and when Harry told him, in a low, whispered voice, to open his eyes and look at him, he did so without hesitation.

As their eyes locked, a genuinely precious smile tugged at the corners of Draco’s mouth, and Harry’s heart instantly skipped a beat.

“I love you.”

The words left his mouth before he’d actively considered saying them aloud.

Draco’s smile widened.

“I love you too, Harry.”

Harry captured his lips in a fiercely dominating kiss, and as he toyed with Draco’s tongue and teased and chased it, he let his hand slip between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around Draco’s cock, squeezing it lightly. Draco was hard, and his cock felt heavy and hot. The head was damp with precome, and Harry ran his thumb over and around it, then pumped the entire length.

Draco moaned into their kiss and arched his back, wanting more, and as he did, a positively devious idea crept into Harry’s mind.

He let go of Draco’s cock, and breaking away from the kiss, he summoned a bottle of his favourite lube from the top drawer if his nightstand. It flew into his outstretched hand and flicking the cap open, he smirked at Draco, who was panting heavily but looking at him expectantly.

Harry coated his hand with a generous amount of lube, cast a very subtle warming charm on the silky-smooth liquid and wrapping his fingers around Draco’s cock, he slowly stroked it, deliberately keeping his pumps light and teasing.

Draco gasped and sucked in a large amount of air, then slowly exhaled. A tremor surged through him, and Harry placed his other hand on the inside of Draco’s thigh. He dragged his nails over the sensitive, already-marked skin and twisted his lubed fingers and palm up and down the length of Draco’s cock. It pulsed in his hand, and Harry applied a bit of pressure.

“Are you going to be good for me, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco sounded breathless.

His response was more of a panted breath of air than actual words.

Harry smiled.

“Are you going to let me play with you until I’m ready to let you come?”

Draco whimpered softly, then nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And are you going to ask for permission before you come, my love?”

“_Ngh_. Yes, Sir. Always, Sir.”

“Such a good boy, hm, you’re perfect tonight, my love, absolutely perfect.”

Harry’s praise resulted in Draco blushing a deep shade of red. He gnawed at his bottom lip and dragging it into his mouth, he worried it with his teeth but stopped when Harry clicked his tongue in silent disapproval. Instead, he let out a soft gasp and a moan when Harry, once again, simultaneously pumped his cock and dragged his fingers up and down the inside of Draco’s thigh.

He took his sweet time but eventually, Harry had Draco begging him for more. He pleaded to be allowed to come and instead of granting him permission, Harry removed his hand from Draco’s cock and gave him a few seconds to cool down.

Once Draco felt a little more like himself, Harry squired a bit more lube onto his hand and toying with Draco’s balls, he massaged them gently, squeezed them lightly and then pressed his thumb against Draco’s perineum, causing him to buck his hips and beg for more.

“I’ve barely started playing with you, and you’re already this desperate, _tsk_, _tsk_, my love, you’ll have to do better than this if you want tonight to have a happy ending.”

Draco moaned and whimpered, and his eyes fluttered open and closed.

“Please, Sir, please,” he begged.

“Please what?”

“Please don’t tease?”

“I’m not, I’m just taking my time with you.”

Draco let out a low groan and Harry let his slick fingers slip past Draco’s perineum and closer to his hole. He teased the tight ring of muscle and Draco begged him for more. Instead of giving him more, Harry returned to pumping Draco’s cock, bringing him within inches of the point of no return.

When Draco started pleading for his orgasm, he stopped once again and resumed teasing Draco’s hole. This time, he teased for as long as it took for him to be able to breach the tight muscle and slipping a finger inside, he let it slide in and out of Draco.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir, yes, it feels so good. Please don't stop.”

Harry twisted his finger a little and brushing against Draco’s prostate, he started to stimulate it but stopped when it got too much for Draco to bear. He returned to lavish Draco’s cock with his attention and brought him incredibly close to a third almost-orgasm.

Draco’s moan mixed with his desperate pleas for more and without removing his arms from above his head, he wound his fingers into the pillow cover and squeezed it so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“OK, my love? Can you take a little more?”

Harry stopped for a moment to check in with Draco, and leaning forward, he braced himself on his right hand and looked down at Draco, who looked up at him and gave him a breathless nod.

“Yes, Sir. All green,” he whispered.

Harry nodded.

“Can you do one more?” he asked.

Draco moisturised his lips with the tip of his tongue, then nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“My perfect, brave little prince, I’m so proud of you.”

He gave Draco another few minutes to calm down a little more, then ensured that both his hands were slick and dripping with lube. He wrapped one hand around Draco’s cock and slipped the other between his arse cheeks and slowly sliding two fingers inside of him, Harry curled them a little and pressed against Draco’s prostate.

Draco keened and setting an even rhythm, Harry pumped his cock and fingered him.

It didn’t take long for Draco to start pleading again, but Harry merely smiled and shook his head.

“Not yet, my love,” he said.

“_Ngh_, please, Sir, please.”

“No, not yet. Be good for me and hold on.”

Harry remained firm, but because he was feeling devious, he twisted his hand around Draco’s cock and stroked it a little harder and faster while applying more pressure to his prostate and stimulating it further.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you, my little prince?”

Draco whimpered.

“Yes, Sir, yes, I’ll be good.”

“Hm, good boy. Tell me what you want.”

Draco writhed on the bed, and Harry felt him curl his toes against his calves.

“I want to come, please, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“I want you to come too, my sweet little prince, just not yet. I want to keep you on edge for just a little bit longer. You’re so beautiful like this, it’s truly breath-taking. Those flushed cheeks, so stunning. Hm, and just look at those lips. My love, your lips are sinfully beautiful. I can’t decide whether I want to kiss them or bite them, maybe both.”

A long moan filled the room, and Harry continued to twist Draco’s mind a little further.

“Open your eyes for me, my little prince. Look at me, my love.”

It took Draco several attempts to open his eyes completely.

He blinked a few times, then smiled at Harry.

“Hello.”

Harry whispered the greeting with a smile in his voice.

Draco huffed out a breath of air.

“Hi,” he whispered back.

The connection between them was charged with so much emotion that Harry's heart swelled to the point that it felt like it might just have to stop beating.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered.

A rumble of soft laughter erupted from the depths of Draco’s throat and his eyes danced with joy. There was a spark in them that made Harry’s heart, despite its current enlarged size, beat faster, and he grinned.

“My gorgeous little prince, you’re so good for me tonight.”

“_Ngh_.”

“Will you keep being good for me for a little while longer, my love?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco breathed his response, and his eyelids fluttered.

Harry clicked his tongue gently.

“No, look at me, my love. Don’t close your eyes. I want to see my little prince come undone,” he said.

He murmured the incantation to end the ancient-rune-spell, he’d cast earlier, but at this stage, Draco was so far gone that it hardly made any difference. The sensations of Harry’s strokes still felt intense to him, and the fact that Harry was also fingering him most definitely didn’t make resisting slipping over the edge any easier. But Draco bravely held on, and Harry watched, unable and unwilling to tear his eyes away from the mesmerising sight in front of him for even just a second.

“You’re perfect, my precious little prince. Tell me how bad do you want to come?”

“So bad, please, Sir, please. Please let me come.”

Harry shook his head.

“Hm, no, not just yet.”

He gave Draco’s cock another twist and continued to tease the walnut-sized nub inside of him with his fingers.

Draco thrashed around the bed, repeatedly curled and uncurled his toes, and his fingers sought out the headboard. He gripped it hard, and tilting his head back, he let out a long moan.

“Sir, please, please, please. Please let me come, please.”

Harry deliberately hesitated for at least ten seconds, then smirked.

“Come for me, my little prince.”

He finally granted Draco permission, and the second the words left his lips; Draco arched his back, and his hips moved off the mattress. He groaned, gulped down several large mouthfuls of air, and tried to calm himself at least a little bit, but failed epically.

Harry simply watched and a few moments later, when Draco finally fell over the edge and came all over his hand, he gently eased his fingers out of Draco and braced himself on the bed.

He stroked Draco through his orgasm and paid absolutely no heed as to where Draco’s come had landed. Instead, he told him how beautiful he looked and how much he loved him.

Draco keened softly, and Harry captured his lips in a slow and tender kiss, pausing every now and then to allow Draco to breathe deeply.

After a while, he lay down and pulled Draco into his embrace. He then instinctively wrapped his arms around his little prince. Draco curled into him, buried his face in his t-shirt and hummed softly, then chuckled quietly.

Harry pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head and gasped when he felt Draco’s hand sneak down to his boxers.

“Please, let me,” Draco murmured into his chest.

Harry hugged Draco a little tighter and smiled into his silky-soft blond hair.

“Go for it,” he said.

Draco’s hand slipped past the elastic band and he wrapped his long, lithe fingers around Harry’s hard cock. Harry’s eyes almost automatically fell closed, and he hummed softly in quiet approval.

“Yes, that’s it, my little prince, hm, yes just like that,” he whispered.

Draco knew precisely how to move his hand, how tight to grip his cock and how fast to stroke. He didn't have to give him any instructions, didn't have to tell him what to do when; he could just lie back and enjoy, knowing Draco knew his preferences inside out.

Harry tilted his head back a little, snuck two fingers beneath Draco’s chin and nudged it up.

As Draco looked up, Harry opened his eyes, moaned softly, then leant in and captured Draco’s lips in a slow kiss. He wound his tongue around Draco’s to deepen their kiss and moving his hips, he thrust into Draco’s hand.

Draco let him control the speed, and after a while, Harry pulled away from the kiss and inhaled deeply. He pressed his forehead against Draco’s, exhaled slowly and let the sensations of Draco’s strokes travel up the length of his cock into the pit of his groin. From there, they gradually spread into the rest of his body, and he shuddered, trembled and pulled Draco that little bit closer against his body.

“I want to fuck you, my little prince. May I?”

The fact that he was now the one asking for Draco’s permission clearly had an impact on Draco, and his eyes flew open at once. He looked at Harry with a slightly disbelieving expression, but before he could say anything, Harry pressed a kiss against Draco’s lush lips.

When Harry pulled away a second later, Draco wordlessly withdrew his hands from his boxer briefs. He shuffled and effortlessly moved into a kneeling position, then spread his legs apart, and bending over he offered himself to Harry, who took a deep breath and tried his hardest not to focus on how fast his heart pounded inside his chest. He was sure that if he were to concentrate on it, his heart would manage to break through his ribcage in its uncontrollable excitement; however, Draco’s next words nearly robbed him of every rational thought he’d ever had in his entire life.

“Fuck me, _Sir_, I’m all yours.”

Shifting, he took his boxer briefs off and pulled his t-shirt over his head, discarding both items in a careless heap on the floor. Once he was completely naked, he let his hands rest on Draco’s beautiful buttocks and squeezed them possessively. He let his hands travel over Draco’s back, all the way to his shoulders and massaged those gently.

“You are precious, my love,” he whispered.

Harry leant forward and trailed a long line of tender kisses down Draco’s spine, kissing every inch of it. When he reached, the small of Draco’s back, he moved his hands, squeezed those delightfully firm arse cheeks again, then pulled them apart and buried his face in the crack. He let his tongue circle Draco’s entrance and thoroughly enjoyed the sound of Draco’s low, somewhat muffled moans as the muscles around his tight hole flexed and fluttered.

“Harry―”

Draco mewled and whimpered when Harry pulled away, grabbed the bottle of lube and coated his cock with a generous amount of the cool liquid. He shivered a little, positioned his cock at Draco’s entrance and after gripping his hips firmly, he slid into him with one long thrust.

Draco trembled, gasped, and moaned, and Harry squeezed his hips a little harder.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Yours,” Draco replied.

Harry pulled back, then thrust forward and claimed Draco’s arse. He fucked into him with slow but steady strokes, and Draco arched his back, then whispered three words that were Harry’s undoing.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Harry groaned, and a jolt of excitement zapped down his spine and ended in his groin. His cock twitched, and pulling back, he took a deep breath, then thrust forward, using a little more force than before.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Draco repeated those blasted three words and Harry’s struggled against the intense brain fog that threatened to cloud his senses. He barely managed to keep it at bay and groaning loudly, he felt his orgasm start to build, and instinctively knew that he wouldn’t manage to delay it for even just a second. Not when Draco was on all fours in front of him, shamelessly offering himself up to him and thanking him for fucking him, too. That was all a little bit much for Harry to take and all he could do was to hold Draco’s hips in a bruising vice-grip and pound into him to somehow try and quench his intense desire to own every inch of Draco, inside and out.

It didn’t take long for him to lose his bearings, shudder and falling forward, he placed his hands on either side of Draco’s head and sinking his teeth into Draco’s left shoulder, he bit him hard.

Draco groaned at the sudden and all-consuming burst of pain but adjusted relatively quickly. Harry thrust into him one last time, and keeping his head buried in Draco’s neck, he exploded on a long, low moan and filled Draco’s tight arse with streak after streak of white-hot come.

The force of his orgasm caused him to fall forward but somehow, and despite not being able to think straight, Harry had the sense to fall sideways. As he did so, his cock slipped out of Draco, but he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against his body, wanting and needing him as close as possible.

Draco turned, curled into his embrace, and once again buried his face in Harry’s chest and hummed softly.

In response, Harry tightened his hold on him and took a few moments to come down from his high.

When he was able to breathe again, he slowly opened his eyes, combed his fingers through Draco’s hair and kissed the top of his head.

Draco pulled back, looked at him and smiled.

“You’re perfect,” Harry whispered.

He captured Draco’s lips in a slow kiss, and they shared a lazy snog.

“You aren’t so bad yourself, Sir,” Draco mumbled after a while.

They both looked at each other and chuckled in amusement.

“The bed is filthy,” Harry sighed.

“We can always sleep in the playroom.”

Harry rolled his eyes in response to that.

“Absolutely not.”

“One of the guestrooms then?” Draco suggested.

“The cheek.”

Draco laughed.

“Spank me if it bothers you,” he said.

Harry sighed.

“No energy.”

“I can wait until tomorrow morning.”

“Insatiable little thing.”

“What can I say you spoil me.”

“I will absolutely spank you harder next time, you’re full of sass.”

“You love it, really.”

Harry chuckled.

“Guilty as charged, Prosecutor Malfoy.”

Draco grinned and reaching over him, he grabbed his wand from his nightstand. One swish returned the bottle of lube back to the top drawer of Harry’s nightstand and a second swish removed the wet stains from the centre of the bed.

“There, all done, Director Potter.”

“Your efficiency is one of the many reasons why I love you, my little prince.”

“I live to serve you, Sir.”

“You say the most wonderful things, my love.”

“I just had the best sex, I’m amenable.”

“Amenable enough to get us dinner in bed? I’m starving.”

“You’re a lazy arse, Potter.”

“And you’ll be a red arse before midnight if you keep that up.”

Harry laughed and brought his hand down firmly on Draco’s right buttock, smacking it hard.

Draco yelped.

“Ouch!”

“Behave then.”

Draco pouted.

Harry grinned.

“If I didn’t love you this much, I’d tell you to sleep on the sofa tonight, Potter.”

“Do you want to sleep alone?” Harry teased.

Draco pulled a face.

“Shamelessly using all my secrets against me,” he grumbled.

“You willingly shared those secrets with me, my love.”

Draco rolled his eyes, glowered half-heartedly and dragging himself into a sitting position, he extended his arms up and out over his head to loosen his muscles, then slipped out off bed and stretched again.

Harry licked his lips appreciatingly.

“You look absolutely gorgeous with my marks all over you.”

Draco paused, glanced down at himself, and gasped.

“Stunning, my little prince, just stunning, and all _mine_,” Harry said and languidly stretched in bed, flexing his toes and fingers as he did so.

“All yours indeed,” Draco whispered softly, then blushed a little and smiled shyly.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat and raising himself up, he crawled to the edge of the bed, and reached for Draco, pulling him into a fervent kiss.

“Come on, we’ll have a snack together, I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

Harry mumbled the words against Draco’s lips and climbing out of bed, he took his hand and lacing their fingers together, he dragged him out of the room, along the corridor and down the stairs into the kitchen.

* * *

* * *


	6. Lollipop Discipline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put the chapter-specific notes at the end so as to not spoil the chapter for you, although it's really not much of a spoiler, just me leaving you my two cents on the subject, as well as some additional reading material.
> 
> As always, friendly reminder, I force nobody to read the educational articles I offer, but if you're interested, go for it.
> 
> I also thought that after all the fluff and cuteness, I had to exercise a bit of control and pull the reins back *grin* so here we are.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

“Thank you, Hira,” Harry said.

His excitement bubbled up, filling his chest with glee, and he was entirely unable to stop himself from grinning madly and as though he’d just won the first prize in a competition he hadn’t even known he was taking part in.

It trickled right through and into his voice, and the short, bearded man behind the counter raised his hand and dismissed Harry’s politeness with a wave of his hand and a click of his tongue. Harry suspected that he was a wizard, or at least in some way connected to the Wizarding World but he couldn't very well outright ask him that.

“When it’s finished,” Hira responded, refusing to accept any sort of praise for an item that was nowhere near complete.

Hira turned his back on him, revealing a light-blue Kippah with a white Star of David embroidered in its centre, and pulled a narrow and long box from one of the upper shelves in front of him. Harry shook his head. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Hira’s oddities, but Caleb had recommended him, and Reid was never wrong about the people he associated with.

Harry headed for the door of the small corner shop, but before placing his hand on the knob and twisting it, he paused and turned back.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” he said.

He waited for Hira to twist his head around, and when he did, his brown eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Shalom, Harry.”

Harry nodded, dragged the heavy door to the corner shop open and stepped back out onto the street. He walked along Hatton Garden into the general direction of Theobalds Road but ducked into an inconspicuous-looking alley quickly enough. Making sure that nobody was around, Harry concentrated and disapparated into thin air.

He appeared in a small alcove in a courtyard near Portobello Road in Notting Hill several seconds later. Checking his wristwatch, he frowned and dashed out onto the main road, hurrying towards his and Draco’s favourite independent coffee shop. He was running a few minutes behind schedule, and he didn’t particularly enjoy being late for anything, but Hira had kept him longer than strictly necessary.

Cursing under his breath, Harry walked faster still and five minutes later, and slightly out of breath, he strode into the coffee shop and weaved his way through the early afternoon crowd of ardent coffee lovers.

Draco was sitting in his favourite tattered armchair by the window. He had his nose buried in a thick case file, and slowing down, Harry stopped beside the empty armchair across from Draco. On the small table in front of Draco stood an empty cup of coffee, a half-finished glass of lemon-flavoured water and a plate with one half of a chocolate croissant.

A minute or so past before Draco lifted his eyes off the papers in front of him, and Harry took the opportunity to reminisce about the first time he’d bumped in Draco a little over two years ago.

Back then, much like now, Draco had sat in precisely the same spot, with one leg crossed over the other and a mountain of paperwork all around him.

Harry smiled.

Not much had changed, and he didn’t think that a lot would ever change in that regard.

Draco still enjoyed escaping the madness of the Prosecutor’s Chambers in favour of spending his afternoons in a coffee shop, sipping a quality cappuccino and losing himself in the task of perusing a large number of documents in preparation for a trial or a speech to propose an amendment to existing or outdated wizarding laws.

The latter was somewhat of a new obsession, and as of late Draco was adamant about joining the post-war movement that demanded the continued overhaul of several thoroughly outdated wizarding laws. His hard-earned position at the Ministry and his reputation as one of the top Prosecutors to ever argue a case in front of the Wizengamot afforded him the privilege to be one of the instigators that insisted the Ministry update its laws and policies sooner rather than later.

Harry still vividly remembered the answer Draco had given him one afternoon when he’d been bold enough to enquire about his new interest in rewriting the laws of Wizarding Britain.

_It’s not that our current laws are impossible to understand or apply, it’s just that it’s too bloody tedious to do so and I’m tired of all the paperwork I have to waste my time with. So, unless the Ministry is going to use Muggle technology and give us all computers and access to a comprehensive database of Wizarding Laws and Customs around the Globe, I’m sick and tired of burying my nose in those ancient handwritten tomes._

Following that statement, Harry had been stupid enough to ask for more details, and Draco had promptly subjected him to a two-hour rant about all the hoops he had to jump through during trial preparation and why the current Wizengamot legislators were lazy fuckwits. According to Draco, the present members of the legislative body were better suited to the task of mucking out the Thestral stables at Hogwarts, rather than debating the merits and demerits of the current Wizarding legal system.

The passion in Draco’s voice and the spark in his eyes had made Harry fall in love with him all over again. Although he’d struggled to properly comprehend some of the intricate semantics of law-making, Harry genuinely appreciated Draco’s willingness to explain his interests in great detail, and he’d learnt a lot in that one afternoon.

Afterwards, Draco had felt somewhat anxious. He’d been worried that he’d bored him half to death with his wild and lengthy passionate speech about the changes he hoped to be involved in making. It had taken quite a bit of reassurance from Harry to convince Draco that his concerns were entirely unfounded and that he was interested and cared about Draco’s work, but Harry was sure that it had brought them closer together.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me all day?”

Draco’s sassy question had the desired result. Harry shut his thoughts down and focused on the here and now instead.

He grinned.

“I might just do that. You’re gorgeous.”

Draco chuckled.

“You say that every day.”

Harry shrugged and took off his jacket. He discarded it over the back of the empty armchair beside him and flopped into the cushions.

“If it’s true,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes, marked a page in his case file, then snapped it closed and placed it on top of the table.

“Laying it on a bit thick there, aren’t you, Potter?” Draco scoffed.

Harry laughed.

“As if you aren’t a sucker for it, Malfoy.”

Draco didn’t bother with a response. Instead, he elegantly got to his feet and winked at him.

“You just want a piece of this?” he said, motioning at his body.

Harry chuckled.

“I own every piece of that, but you do have a point. I do want a piece of that stunning arse of yours.”

Draco’s cheeks turned rosy, and he cleared his throat.

“Coffee?” he asked.

Harry threw one leg over the other and reached for Draco’s unfinished chocolate croissant. He bit into it, chewed, then nodded.

“Black, please,” he said, then added that he wanted a filter coffee and not an Americano. 

Draco inclined his head in silent understanding.

“Anything to eat?”

“Something savoury.”

Draco headed towards the counter and relaxing back into his armchair’s comfortable cushions, Harry turned to look out of the window and people-watched. He finished Draco’s half-eaten chocolate croissant, brushed a few stray crumbs off his black trousers and reached for the tablet, Draco had propped up against his armchair. A young barista rushed over to take it from him, and he thanked her, then settled back into his seat.

A few minutes later, Draco returned with a fresh tray.

Harry carefully moved some of Draco’s documents out of the way to make a bit more room on the table and grinned when he saw that Draco had chosen a white cheese chicken lasagna for him. He’d also ordered a piece of treacle tart with custard.

“I know you asked for something savoury, but you never say no to a treacle tart,” he said.

Harry grinned.

“You know me too well.”

He picked up a fork, and sitting forward, he sampled his lasagna while Draco placed a steaming cup of hot, black coffee beside his dessert.

For himself, Draco had ordered a large bowl of fresh Cobb salad with sautéed shrimp, hard-boiled eggs, grilled chicken breast, creamy avocado, crumbled blue cheese, halved cherry tomatoes, and finely chopped chives. It looked mouth-wateringly delicious, and Harry cheekily nicked a forkful, then gave Draco the thumbs up as he chewed.

“Perfect.”

“Couldn’t resist,” Draco said with a shrug.

“And neither you should,” Harry said and frowned when Draco placed something or other, rolled up in a napkin, in his lap.

He wanted to ask Draco about it, but his rumbling stomach distracted him, and he focused his attention on his food instead.

They ate in silence, and once they’d finished, Draco cleared their dirty dishes away, returning them to the counter.

When he sat down again, he had a positively devious smirk on his face, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. It gave Harry a pause, and instead of eating his dessert, he reached for his coffee and took a few small sips.

“Do I even want to ask what you’re thinking about?” he asked.

Draco grinned.

“Why don’t I simply show you?”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow, then shrugged and motioned for Draco to go on.

He regretted his decision a second later.

Draco revealed what he’d been hiding inside the napkin all this time ― a rainbow-coloured twisty lollipop. He slowly removed the wrapping and Harry swallowed hard, then shook his head. He tried to take his eyes off the lollipop but wasn’t able to do so.

The last time, he’d given Draco a lollipop ― also rainbow-coloured, but in the shape of a penis ― to suck on, he’d had a painfully hard erection in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, they’d been in the privacy of their own home, and he’d been free to unzip his trousers and replace Draco’s lollipop with his cock. But this time they were sat in a busy café, surrounded by a vast number of patrons and whipping his cock out and shoving it into Draco’s mouth wasn’t an option available to him.

Draco winked and toyed with the lollipop, rolling the wooden stick suggestively between his fingers and moving his hand up and down along it, as though he was pumping Harry’s cock.

“Saw this and thought of you, Sir,” he said, “it’s not cock-shaped, but I know you have a vivid imagination.”

Harry swallowed a groan and gripped the handle of his coffee mug that little bit harder.

“Don’t.”

Instead of carrying a warning undertone, the word came out of his mouth sounding strangely high-pitched, and clearing his throat, Harry hastily drank a bit of coffee.

Draco smiled.

“But I like sweets,” he said with a pout and licked the entire length of the lollipop slowly and lasciviously.

Harry felt a jolt of excitement zap down his spine. It pooled low in his groin, and there was next to nothing he could do about it. He knew precisely what Draco could do with his tongue and wasn’t looking forward to watching him do it to a lollipop.

“You can lick it at home,” Harry said.

Draco shook his head.

“You’ve got your dessert, I want mine.”

With that, he popped the lollipop into his mouth and sucked it slowly and deliberately.

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Draco.”

This time, he managed to give his voice the desired undertone; firm and assertive. It was most definitely a warning, and for a moment, Draco paused and held his gaze, then he smiled around the lollipop.

He let it pop out of his mouth and shook his head.

“No.”

Harry swallowed a sigh, sipped on his coffee and sitting forward, he reached for his dessert fork and helped himself to a piece of his treacle tart. As he chewed, he cast a wandless, wordless muffling charm around their table and smiled.

“You’re walking on very thin ice here, my little prince,” he said.

Even though there was no chance of anyone overhearing them, he purposefully kept his voice low and quiet.

Draco grinned.

“But I’m walking,” he said with a sassy wink.

He continued to suck on the lollipop, and Harry felt his cock stir in his trousers, an entirely natural reaction to Draco’s blatant teasing. It slowly thickened and lengthened and soon pressed against its confines. He shifted uncomfortably, and after indulging in another bite of treacle tart covered in creamy warm custard, he put his fork down and drank more coffee, then dropped his hand into his lap to adjust himself.

“You’re going to get yourself into trouble if you keep that up.”

Draco sucked the lollipop into his mouth, then pulled it back, only to push it right back inside. He paused for a few seconds, then let it pop out and swirled his tongue around the very tip. Harry shook his head.

“Am I now?” Draco asked.

There was a cocky sort of undercurrent in his voice, and Harry smiled a little.

“Yes, my little prince. And I can promise you right now that you won’t like it.”

Draco hesitated.

Harry could tell that he weighed up his options and for a moment, he thought that Draco might stop, but he didn’t. Instead, he doubled his efforts.

Harry sighed.

“Stop it,” he said rather firmly.

Draco looked at him with big innocent eyes. He stopped suggestively sucking on his rainbow-coloured lollipop and very slowly let it pop from his mouth.

“But it tastes almost as good as you, _Sir_, I don’t want to stop.”

Harry clenched and unclenched his fist in his lap. Not because he was angry ― it took more than a lollipop blowjob to ruffle his feathers ― but because Draco was steadily edging closer to earning himself a proper punishment for ignoring the rules.

“You're bratty.”

Draco smiled.

“You like it.”

Harry gave him a pointed look, carefully set his coffee mug down on the table, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“Do you want me to punish you when we get home tonight?” he asked outright.

At hearing the question, a flicker of fear crossed Draco’s face, but it was gone almost immediately, and a cheeky smile replaced it.

“You wouldn’t.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco.

“I don’t recommend it but if you insist on finding out how far you can go until I punish you, go right ahead.”

Draco dithered for a few moments, then grinned.

“It’s too delicious,” he said and popped the lollipop right back into his mouth.

Harry sighed.

He uncrossed his arms and reaching for his dessert fork, he resumed eating his treacle tart.

“I foresee tonight ending with tears and a someone feeling very sorry for themselves,” he said.

In response, Draco sucked more of the lollipop into his mouth. His lips were glistening with sticky wetness, and their indecent shape did next to nothing to improve the painfully hard situation in Harry’s trousers.

“I mean it, Draco, last warning, or you’ll have to content yourself with a very sore bottom.”

* * *

* * *

Draco pushed the door to Harry’s and his bedroom open and walked inside.

“I’ve got those two pillows you―”

He broke off mid-sentence and falling silent, he swallowed hard and nervously shuffled from one foot to the other.

Harry looked thoroughly sour, and a feeling of unease spread from the pit of Draco’s stomach through the rest of his body. He tightened his hold on the two decorative pillows, Harry had asked him to fetch from the living room and pressed his lips together. A moment later, he parted them with the very intention of saying something, but Harry shook his head and motioned towards the bed.

“Put the pillows on the bed.”

Draco hesitated and curling his bare toes into the soft carpet beneath his feet, he worried his bottom lip.

“I’m not in the mood to repeat myself.”

Harry’s firm undertone and his authoritative stance instantly convinced Draco that it would be wiser to get a move on. He gingerly set one foot in front of the other, and walking across the room, he approached the bed. There he stopped and looked at Harry in the hope to gauge his feelings, but he had no luck. Beyond the fact that he was not pleased, his facial expression didn’t give anything away.

Draco briefly contemplated sinking to his knees and begging Harry for mercy, but despite his strong desire to follow through on that idea, neither his legs nor his mouth obeyed him.

Instead, he dutifully placed the two large decorative pillows on top of Harry’s and his bed, placing one above the other.

His eyes fell onto the black leather belt that lay waiting for him on top of the blanket at the foot of the bed, and his trepidation intensified ― this wasn’t going to be fun or playful, no, this was going to hurt. It was going to hurt a lot.

Draco knew that he’d teased Harry too much and pushed him way too far at the café, and right this moment, he couldn’t come up with a single sensible reason as to why he had paid no heed to Harry’s repeated warnings.

Harry hadn’t been a bad sport at all. He’d allowed him to tease, he’d even smiled about it, for a while at least. He’d not told him off for his sassy remarks but had thoroughly enjoyed them.

Their contract stipulated that the only time Draco had to rein his sass in was when they were inside the playroom. That was the only room inside the entire house where Harry expected complete obedience and Draco always gave it willingly.

There was something about taking that step over the threshold that silenced his mind and calmed his sassy side. On the fourth floor, Draco’s only desire was to submit to Harry’s authority and being cheeky was the very last thing on his mind.

Harry’s hand gently closed around his wrist, and Draco felt Harry’s thumb circle over his pulse point. The familiar touch calmed his nerves and slowed his breathing. Focusing back on the present, Draco slowly lifted his head and looked at Harry.

“Please?” his whispered feebly.

He didn’t think his plea would make a difference whatsoever, but he a part of him still wanted to try.

Harry shook his head.

“No.”

His response was short, and his tone serious, and Draco quietly resigned himself to his fate.

“You know what this is for, don’t you?”

Draco nodded.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Use your words, please.”

Draco briefly closed his eyes.

“I know.”

“Then tell me.”

“I was naughty and didn’t listen when you told me to stop.”

Draco slowly opened his eyes again, and swallowing hard, he looked at Harry. There wasn’t an ounce of anger in those emerald-green eyes, and he was grateful when Harry threaded his fingers through his hair and caressed his cheek with his thumb.

“Correct. You broke the rules, and you know what the punishment for that is, don’t you?”

Harry’s other thumb continued to circle over his pulse point, and Draco slowly breathed in and out. His earlier nervousness was gone, and he felt calmer, but knowing that he was about to receive several rather firm lashes the leather belt, Harry had been wearing earlier, didn’t remove the feeling of trepidation that had taken up residence in the pit of his stomach.

Draco nodded.

“I do,” he said, then swallowed hard.

“How many strikes, Sir?” he whispered.

“Ten,” Harry replied.

“Or do you feel that’s unjustified?”

Draco didn’t immediately answer the question.

Instead, he took a moment to let the number of strikes sink in.

Ten.

It was fair, but it was going to hurt, and that was the part he dreaded the most. This wasn’t going to be the good kind of pain, Harry usually spoiled him with, no, this was going to be the kind of pain that would make him wince every time he had to sit down.

“No, Sir. I broke the rules when I didn’t listen to you telling me to stop.”

Harry nodded.

“You know. Good. Now, take off your trousers and boxers and get on the bed.”

Draco lowered his gaze and stared at his feet. Harry stopped caressing his cheek and let go of his wrist, then took a step back. Draco took a deep breath and moved his slightly shaking hands to the top button of his trousers. He undid it, pulled the zipper down, then stepped out of the garment, and folded it neatly.

Next, he placed it on top of the bed, near the headboard, then slowly dragged his black boxer briefs down. He folded those too, and put them down on top of his trousers, then gingerly climbed onto the bed and lay down on his front, making sure that the two pillows, he’d brought upstairs with him, rested underneath his hips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry reach for the black leather belt and fold it in half to form a loop. He gripped the two ends, then adjusted his grasp until he had a good hold on his belt.

“I want you to count each strike. Say it.”

Draco closed his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he said quietly.

He tried to mentally prepare himself for the first blow, but since he had no idea when exactly Harry would strike him, he couldn’t entirely compose himself. Still, Harry gave him the time to take a few deep breaths. He also wasn’t the sort of person to deliberately draw out the punishment and landed the first blow soon enough.

Draco’s hissed and clenched his butt cheeks, tightly. Harry had struck him harder than he usually did and the belt’s sting made his arse throb.

“One.”

The second blow landed almost immediately after the first, and this time Draco did more than just hiss. He yelped and squirmed, flexing his toes and fingers as he did. Harry hadn’t struck the exact same spot, but Draco could still feel the burn from the first blow and the second one only served to intensify and add to it.

“Two.”

Harry gave him a few moments to breathe, then Draco heard the belt whizz through the air. It struck him right across the centre of his arse and letting out a high-pitched shriek, Draco felt white-hot tears spring into his eyes. They burned and blinking furiously, he inhaled sharply and squirmed in a useless attempt to make the pain a little more bearable.

“Three.”

“OK?” Harry asked.

Draco wanted to shake his head. He tried to say no, and he tried to curse underneath his breath, but instead of doing any of that he simply nodded and forced a quiet _yes_ through his gritted teeth.

“You’re doing well.”

Draco disagreed.

He didn’t think he was doing well.

Or maybe he was, but his arse certainly wasn’t. It thrummed and throbbed with the lingering sting of the three strikes, he’d already counted out, and the thought of having to endure seven more made him want to scream.

Instead, he ground his teeth together, clenched his fists and breathed deeply, then bravely counted out the fourth and the fifth strike, but was unable to stop the tears from falling.

A wretched sob forced its way past his lips, and his entire body shook from the impact of each blow. His arse felt like it was burning up and Draco buried his head in the mattress and sobbed quietly, then screamed.

“Six,” he panted.

Harry’s fingers found his wrist.

They closed around it, and the pressure of Harry’s thumb circling over his pulse point helped Draco to centre and ground himself.

“Breathe. Slowly.”

Harry’s voice was soft and gentle, and Draco instantly focused on it instead of the pain and the moment he actively redirected his attention away from his throbbing arse, it hurt less. He wondered whether Harry had perhaps cast a wandless wordless soothing charm but abandoned that idea as complete nonsense. Harry would never do that, not during a punishment anyway.

“You’re nearly there. You’re doing well.”

Thick hot tears rolled down Draco’s cheeks, and he whimpered softly.

Another strike reignited the pain in his arse and Draco huffed out a breath of air and howled.

“Seven.”

Number eight followed almost immediately after and a fresh wave of tears rolled down Draco’s cheeks.

_Two more_, he thought and took a deep breath, praying that it would be over soon. He didn’t like that belt, not one bit. Each strike hurt like hell and Draco was sure that the welts across his arse were a deep shade of red, purple, and blue.

Harry struck his arse for the ninth time, and Draco called out and choked on a sob. He spluttered, buried his face in the crook of his elbow and cried bitter tears.

A few moments past and then the last blow finally fell.

Draco screamed, thrashed, and slammed his fist onto the mattress.

“Ten,” he sobbed.

A flood of tears slid down his cheeks, and he sobbed, gasped and whimpered into his elbow and the bed covers. He felt Harry sit down beside him and gently pull him into his arms.

“There, there, it’s all good, my sweet little prince. It’s all over now. You did so well, and I’m so proud of you.”

Harry’s embrace and his gentle words only made Draco cry harder, and despite his hot arse, he scrambled to crawl into Harry’s arms and buried his face in Harry’s lap.

He felt Harry's fingers comb through his hair and shivered when they caressed the back of his neck and slipped under his shirt to gently rub his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Draco blubbered and mumbled his apology into Harry’s crotch.

* * *

* * *

Harry instinctively tightened his hold on Draco and continued to pet him.

“Ssh, my love. It’s all good, my little prince. All is forgiven and forgotten. You’re my precious little prince, my good boy.”

He soothed him with gentle caresses and sweet words and repeatedly told him that he loved him and that he was precious.

It took the better part of fifteen minutes for Draco to calm down enough to lift his head out of his lap and look at him. His cheeks were tear-stained and blotched, his eyes bloodshot, and his nose snotty.

Harry smiled.

He tenderly wiped some of the tears away and holding Draco’s face in his hands, he kissed the centre of his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, and finally his mouth.

“You were perfect, my precious little prince. Absolutely perfect. You did so, so well. I’m proud of you. You accepted your punishment and took it in your stride, you are amazing.”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” Draco whispered.

Harry kissed him again.

“I know you will be, you are my good little prince, my perfect little prince, my sweet boy.”

Draco mewled softly, and Harry smiled.

“Come now, I’ll run you a bath, my little prince, it’ll soothe the pain and make it all better.”

Harry didn’t expect Draco to scramble off the bed and he didn’t ask him to. Instead, he stood up, lifted Draco into his arms and carried him into their en-suite bathroom. On the way in, Harry kicked the door shut, then cast a wandless warming charm to raise the temperature inside the room. He also used magic to turn the water taps on and gently easing Draco down, he steadied him with one hand and summoned several of Draco’s essential oils, which he added to the tub.

“Do you want a bubble bath?” he asked.

Draco, who was chewing on his bottom lip and looking very sorry, nodded.

“Please,” he mumbled.

Harry smiled.

“Anything for my gorgeous little prince.”

He summoned a lavender-scented bubble bath solution and pouring a generous amount into the tub, he used a spell to mix it all up thoroughly.

It didn’t take long for the tub to fill up and steadying Draco, Harry helped him to climb inside. Draco kneeled down, then attempted to sit, but hissed and immediately turned onto his front.

Harry chuckled softly.

He crouched down beside the tub and reached for a soft yellow sponge which he soaked in the bath’s hot water. Gently running it over Draco’s very sore bottom, Harry did his best to soothe the burn with the utmost care. The welts were rather prominent, and no matter how gentle his touch was, Draco hissed, squirmed and whimpered.

“It hurts,” he sighed.

“I’m afraid it will do so for a while, my little prince.”

Draco pouted but said nothing more.

“The bath will ease the pain a bit, my sweet little prince. And after we can curl up on the sofa and watch a film on TV or―”

“Can we just snuggle in bed please?”

Harry smiled.

“Of course. I’ll even make you some hot cocoa if you want, my little prince.”

“With extra cream and those tiny white and pink marshmallows?”

Harry laughed.

“Naw, you’re adorable. Of course. Anything for my little prince.”

About twenty minutes past before Harry gently coaxed Draco out of the tub, dried his hair and the rest of his body and summoned Draco’s favourite black silk pyjamas from the bedroom. He helped Draco dress, and as he buttoned up his shirt, Draco gave him a shy smile. It melted Harry’s heart and leaving the buttons be, he took Draco’s face into his hands and kissed him gently.

“My little prince.”

He whispered Draco’s pet name against his lips, then slowly pulled away and smiled at him.

“You’re perfect.”

Draco hummed, and even though his cheeks were already flushed from his bath, his blush intensified a little.

“Harry?”

Draco spoke quietly, and his voice was soft and tender.

“Yes, my little prince?”

“I really don’t know why I ignored your warnings. I think I was so lost in the moment that I took them with a grain of salt.”

“Remember it for next time, my little prince, repeatedly ignoring my warnings, will have consequences. Next time, I might just do ten strikes and then make you sit down and write in your journal straight after.”

Draco pulled a face and shook his head apprehensively.

“Please don’t.”

Harry smiled.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s damp hair and kissed him softly.

“Be good, and you don’t have to worry about anything at all, my little prince.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

Harry chuckled.

“Let’s see how long that’s going to last,” he said.

Draco glowered at him.

“I can be good,” he said, sounding cross.

“I know you can, my little prince.”

“Hmpf, I’ll prove it to you.”

“You don’t need to, I believe you.”

“Well, I don’t believe that you believe me. I believe that you’re mocking me.”

Harry laughed.

“I’d never mock you, my little prince. Tease you, yes, endlessly so, definitely, but I’d never mock you.”

“You better be telling the truth, Potter,” Draco grumbled under his breath.

“I never lie, my little prince.”

“Do you still have those chocolates you fed me the other day?”

Harry grinned.

“What a topic change and a half. Yes, I do. I’ve hidden them somewhere you’ll never find them. Do you want some?”

Draco nodded.

“Alright, be a good boy and wait for me in bed. I’ll make you a cup of hot cocoa and get you a couple of chocolates.”

“The best aftercare.”

Harry laughed.

“Anything for you, my little prince,” he said and kissed Draco.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to discipline as part of the BDSM lifestyle, I have a serious issue with punishments being dished out in anger or punishments that don't fit the crime or the submissive / slave. It happens in real life, unfortunately, and it also occurs in writing.
> 
> For a punishment / the discipline to be effective, the submissive / slave must always know why they are being disciplined. The "crime" must be discussed before and after. While letting some time pass (like in the chapter, Harry and Draco had to get home first before Harry could punish Draco) is perfectly acceptable, allowing too much time to pass is not. Punishing a submissive / slave for a "crime" they committed several days ago is not acceptable, not ever.
> 
> Any discipline that includes pain should always come with aftercare, and the Dom(me) should remind and reassure the submissive / slave, letting them know that they are loved and cared for.  
A Dom(me) should never punish the submissive / slave when they refuse to do something they aren't ready for, have received adequate training in, or are pushed beyond their limits. Such behaviour is a massive RED FLAG, and anyone ever finding themselves in such a situation should GET OUT immediately.
> 
> Pain isn't always the most effective punishment, sometimes a simple timeout, a verbal warning/reprimand, or a stern look is enough to correct unwanted behaviour.
> 
> If you'd like to learn more, I'm happy to provide you with a few links for a more in-depth understanding. On a personal note, punishments are never fun (but they aren't supposed to) and make you feel rotten because you know you've done something to displease your Dom(me) and that's generally the last thing you want to do. However, when done right, discipline/punishment can be highly effective, and it can bring two people even closer together. 
> 
> ["What does Discipline mean?"](https://www.kinkly.com/definition/648/discipline)
> 
> ["16 BDSM Punishments For Effective Behaviour Training"](https://badgirlsbible.com/bdsm-punishments)
> 
> If you want to go really deep, I recommend these three articles from Limits Unleashed:  
1) ["Correction, Discipline & Punishment, Pt.1: Introduction"](https://limitsunleashed.com/2015/07/16/cdp-pt1/)  
2) ["Correction, Discipline & Punishment, Pt.2: Abuse"](https://limitsunleashed.com/2015/07/26/correction-discipline-punishment-pt-2-abuse/)  
3) ["Correction, Discipline & Punishment, Pt.3: Forgiveness"](https://limitsunleashed.com/2015/08/07/correction-discipline-punishment-pt-3-forgiveness/)


	7. Another One Bites The Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know someone I heart an awful lot is probably going to have a good long giggle over the title of this chapter (Happy Oct. 7th, my love!) and I'm not even going to attempt to try and explain it to the rest of you lovely people, I could not, it wouldn't make sense, because I’m not even sure it makes sense to me.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter didn't turn out as planned. I had several other ideas for it, but my boys decided to take over and started telling me what to do. I got them to behave but not for long, so yeah, there will be more to this as I'm not finished telling this particularly whippy tale.
> 
> This chapter also wasn't supposed to be this long but somehow, I just can't control myself when I write these boys, though I have the feeling that none of you will have any complaints about that. I'm on a week-long break at the moment, so writing a chapter a day is entirely possible. Not sure that'll still be possible once school starts back up but a chapter every second day should be possible... I mean, if I'd stuck to drabbles and/or short glimpses into Harry's and Draco's lives I'd totally be able to churn out a chapter a day, but since I've got a story to tell that mightn't be possible. Still, I think I’ve proven that I’m good for updates on my WIPs time and time again so stick with me, folks. 
> 
> Also, can I just say that I'm having so much fun? I really do love writing about these boys. They generally have a mind of their own, and occasionally it's somehow of a challenge to try and keep them in line but each chapter is a labour of love and so I'll forgive them for their naughtiness.
> 
> I also love reading your wonderful comments, there’s literally all sorts. There are the short notes, the excited gushes and the long rambles and I love each and every one for different reasons. I don’t pick a favourite because there is none, but please know that when I struggle to put the words together, when I struggle to get them from my head through my fingers and onto the screen, all your support and love helps. I love reading your thoughts on the characters, the plot and various other aspects. Your words are welcome, so much. Thank you again.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Draco set his empty mug down on a coaster on the coffee table in front of him, and reaching for the rather inconspicuous-looking flat black cardboard box, he picked it up and inspected it from several different angles.

If one ignored the fact that he and Harry had taken a Portkey to Romania just after breakfast this morning, it was a pretty typical Saturday afternoon. Charlie had invited them over for the day, and upon their arrival, he’d taken them to tour around the reserve, and for a large portion of it, they’d found themselves speeding through the air on broomsticks, travelling high up into the Carpathians to visit a female Antipodean Opaleye who’d recently become a mother. They’d watched her, from a safe distance, of course, teaching her young offspring how to fly and it had made Draco feel just a bit broody.

While flying back to the reserve, Harry hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to pull a few gravity-defying, heart-stopping Seeker stunts. Apparently, the fact that he was now the Director of the Auror Department had done nothing to impair his flying skills. He was just as apt as he’d always been.

Watching Harry speed through the air at breakneck speed had reminded Draco of all those times they’d chased each other across the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, and although he’d tried to resist, his competitive nature had taken over, and eventually, he’d given in and chased after Harry. He’d tried his very best to catch up with Harry, but somehow Harry had always slipped right through his fingers at the very last minute.

Unable to control his annoyance, Draco had thrown a plethora of colourful expletives at Harry, who’d laughed until he’d nearly fallen off his broom. Threatening to hex him, Draco had drawn his wand and promised murder. In response to that, Harry had dared him to chase him with a series of stinging hexes and much to Draco’s lingering exasperation, he’d out-flown every single curse.

“Earth to Malfoy!”

Shaking his head, Draco pulled himself out of his reverie, and glanced back and forth between Charlie and the box in his lap.

He looked over to Harry and raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but Harry merely shrugged, uncrossed his legs, and took a sip from his coffee and sat forward.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “For once, I’ve no idea what this is all about.”

“He’s your brother,” Draco said with an exasperated sigh.

Harry chuckled.

“Doesn’t mean he tells me everything. In fact, most of the time it’s me telling him stuff.”

“Potter’s telling the truth here, mate,” Charlie said with a wide grin.

Draco shook his head.

“You two have an odd relationship.”

Charlie laughed.

“Hey, if it works, why change it.”

“Why indeed,” Draco mumbled.

He inspected the box for a little while longer, then decided to bow to his fate and open it, though not without scowling at Charlie first.

“I swear, Weasley, there better not be anything nasty inside this box.”

Charlie grinned.

“Define _nasty_,” he said.

His crystal-clear light blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, Harry, can’t you train him a bit better?”

Harry laughed.

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Try harder,” Draco mumbled.

He shook the box lightly, but whatever was inside did not make a single sound. Dithering for another minute or two, he eventually undid the silver satin wrapping ribbon and rolling it up, he placed it on the coffee table, beside his empty coffee mug. He tapped the lid, took a deep breath and pulled the cover off the box, then gasped.

Inside the box was a twelve-foot braided leather bullwhip with a ten-inch handle and a wrist strap for extra security.

“What? Why?”

He heard Charlie chuckle softly and dragging his eyes away from the whip, Draco attempted to concentrate on Charlie.

“Handmade, especially for you.”

Draco shook his head and glanced over at Harry, who raised both his hands in mock surrender.

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“He didn’t,” Charlie said.

Draco looked back at him and frowned.

“How did you know?”

Charlie gave him a wicked grin.

“A little bird may have told me that you’ve got a natural talent for wielding a whip.”

Draco shook his head and looking back at Harry, he narrowed his eyes.

“Liar. You did tell him.”

“Hey,” Harry objected, looking slightly hurt.

“I told him you were good with a whip, I never said he should gift you one.”

“Yup, that was entirely my idea.”

Unsure what to respond to that, Draco shifted his attention back to the whip and taking it out of the box, he scrutinised it. The handle was weighted for a better and more balanced grip ― Draco suspected it had a steel rod core ― and grasping it tightly, he couldn’t deny that it felt really rather good.

Ever since Harry had taught him how to correctly wield a whip, he hadn’t practised much, but now that he had his fingers wrapped around the handle, Draco suddenly couldn’t wait to hear it crack through the air. Putting the box aside, he let the thong slide through his hands and marvelled at the softness and smoothness of the leather. When he reached the fall hitch, he paused for a few seconds, gripped it tightly and squeezed, then let go, allowing the fall and the popper to slither through his fingers.

“Like it?”

Charlie’s innocent question broke through the haze in his brain and looking up Draco smiled and nodded.

“Love it.”

“Want to give it a crack?”

“Here? Now?” Draco asked.

Charlie nodded.

“Sure, why not? I’m happy to give you a few helpful pointers. I mean Potter here is good, but he’s got nothing on me.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Pompous arse,” he scoffed.

Harry laughed, and when Draco turned his head to look at him, he seemed amused rather than offended.

“Don’t mock the man, my love, I told you before, Charlie’s seriously fantastic with a whip, and he’s absolutely right in saying that I’ve got nothing on him. He’ll whip an apple off your head without you ever feeling the breeze or hearing the faintest crack.”

Draco looked entirely unconvinced.

“You’re joking,” he said.

Harry shook his head.

“Absolutely not. Charlie’s that good.”

“Let me fetch my own whip and my boy, and I’ll show you.”

Draco gasped.

“You’re not going to whip Liam in front of us!”

Charlie laughed.

“No. I won’t, at least not in that way. My boy doesn’t like that sort of pain. But I can wrap the fall of my whip around him without leaving the tiniest mark on him. Instead of a nasty red welt, it’ll feel like a tickle.”

Draco shuddered.

He liked the cracking sound of a whip as it cut through the air, but he never ever wanted to feel a whip’s fall or popper connect with his skin. The mere thought of that gave him goosebumps and filled him with fear. For that very reason, he couldn’t imagine that it was possible for a whip’s crack to feel like a tickle when it touched your skin.

“Come on, you and Harry head on outside. Me and Liam will be right behind. This is clearly something you need to see to believe,” Charlie said.

He rose from his favourite armchair and stretching a little, he left the living room, calling out for Liam on his way down the hallway.

Draco gathered up his whip’s fall and slowly rising to his feet, he shook his head again.

“This is insane,” he mumbled.

He couldn’t entirely deny his excitement though, and evidently, he hadn’t been very good at concealing it, for when he looked over at Harry, he flashed him a big grin and slowly stood up. Harry rounded the coffee table, sneaked his arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug.

“You know, you’re the first submissive I’ve met who has a penchant for cracking whips. It’s normally the Dom(me)s who like to do the cracking and certain submissives who like to be on the receiving end.”

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that comment.

“I live to defy norms,” he said.

Harry laughed, and when he leant in to kiss him, Draco melted into his embrace and against his body, relishing in the chance to be close to him.

When time and commitments allowed for it, they enjoyed socialising with friends and family, but whenever there were other people around, Draco held back a little and resisted the urge to publicly snuggle into Harry or share a passionate kiss. It wasn’t that he minded public displays of affection, it was just that he was conscious of the fact that other people didn’t necessarily want to see him stick his tongue down Harry’s throat. But since Charlie had left the room and therefore given them some alone-time together, Draco wasn’t above stealing a hug and a few passionate kisses.<strike></strike>

“And you’re fucking unbelievable when you do, my little prince. You absolutely are something special, and I love you.”

A pleasant shiver of excitement trickled down Draco’s spine and pulling back a little, he locked eyes with Harry. The whispered praise did unspeakable things to him and feeling his knees shake just a bit, Draco was grateful for Harry’s strong hold on him. Harry reached for his hand and grasped it tightly.

They shared another slow and unhurried kiss, then Harry pulled him from the room and into the hallway.

For a moment, Draco wanted to protest, but he swallowed the urge, deciding to save it for later instead. There would be plenty of time for hours of kissing tonight when they returned to Grimmauld Place.

Once in the corridor, they paused, and Harry let go of his hand. He stepped into his dragonhide boots and bent down to adjust them, then pulled up the zipper.

Draco glanced at his own shoes, shrugged and decided not to bother.

Instead, he took his socks off and neatly placed them on top of his shoes, then rolled his trousers up a bit. Barefoot and with his brand-new handmade whip in hand, he pulled the front door to Charlie’s and Liam’s cottage open and stepped outside. He swiftly crossed over the pebbled path, hissing and cursing under his breath when the small stones dug into the soles of his feet.

It bloody well hurt, and for a split-second he regretted his decision not to wear shoes.

Harry, who was right behind him, laughed and pinning him with an icy glower, Draco escaped onto the soft green grass and flexed his toes. The grass was still slightly damp, but Draco didn’t care. He wriggled his toes some more and revelled in the feeling of nature beneath his feet. Harry merely shook his head but said nothing. Instead, he followed him around the house and into the back garden.

They walked past the rows of vegetable patches and headed further until they reached a large open space, perfect for wielding whips and other sorts of mischief. An old oak tree grew nearby, and a broad wooden swing hung from its branches, and for a moment, Draco contemplated sharing it together with Harry. It was a childish thought, but it was a fun thought and smiling softly to himself, he pinned the fantasy to a secret wall inside his heart, choosing to keep it close to his chest, instead of allowing it to get lost among the myriad of thoughts that filled his head daily.

Charlie and Liam caught up with them several minutes later and much to Draco’s relief, Liam was dressed ― he didn’t exactly mind seeing Liam naked, but occasionally, it made him a little comfortable since he never knew where to look.

Liam wore a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of beige chinos, and both garments complemented his toned figure. He was a little shorter and thinner than Charlie, but he took great pride in exercising regularly.

His silver stainless-steel eternity collar glimmered in the low, but warm, afternoon sun and what with a black shirt as a backdrop, it stood out like a beacon. Draco fought hard to stop himself from staring at it and deliberately redirected his attention.

Liam, like Draco, had chosen not to put on shoes, or maybe Charlie hadn’t allowed him to ― Draco didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to ask.

They both walked hand in hand, but Draco instantly noted that Liam walked a full step behind Charlie. He also kept his eyes on the floor and his free hand behind his back.

Draco smiled.

He loved Liam’s submissive gestures, they were a sign of his respect for Charlie and their relationship and reminded Draco of the little things he often did to show Harry that he enjoyed submitting to him.

Liam’s devotion to his Master was genuine and strong. It showed in the way he carried himself, and how he walked, talked, and acted.

Unless Charlie explicitly gave him permission to speak freely, he never spoke out of turn. He was polite, kind, and a thoroughly good person. He was also an incredibly gifted wizard, and Draco suspected that he knew more about Charms than Professor Flitwick ever would. Liam had a keen understanding of the delicate intricacy of magic, and his spell work was truly outstanding.

People who didn’t know any specifics about Charlie’s and Liam’s relationship usually thought of him as shy and introverted, and they were entirely wrong. Neither one of those two boxes fitted Liam. He was lively, outspoken, passionate, and well-read, and wasn’t the type of person who agreed with you just because he identified as a submissive. No, quite on the contrary. Liam had very strong opinions and loved a good debate.

The last time, Draco had had the chance to chat with Liam, they’d spent most of the evening talking about Wizarding politics.

When it came to the lifestyle, Liam was anything but a novice. He’d been part of the community for a very long time. He was, for the most part, extremely well-behaved, well-trained, and very knowledgeable.

He’d been Charlie’s slave for many years, at first on and off, then they’d gradually finalised things. All that had happened years before Draco had even heard the acronym BDSM.

Theirs was a TPE relationship which meant that Charlie called the shots, all of them. He had Liam’s full and written consent to do so.

The idea of giving up total control thoroughly terrified Draco, but he and Harry had spoken about it at length and more than once. They’d come to an understanding that worked for them. It also made Draco truly appreciate Harry’s ability to navigate between a kink-based relationship and a plain vanilla one.

TPE most definitely wasn’t the right kind of relationship for Draco. He understood that, and so did Harry.

Over the last two years, they’d forged their own relationship, one that suited them perfectly. They’d tailored it to meet their needs, and Draco felt comfortable and at home in it.

Harry generally treated him as his equal and rarely demanded his complete obedience. Especially allotted times and the playroom were the only exceptions to that rule. Their relationship wasn’t strictly vanilla, and it wasn’t purely kinky either. The lines between the two worlds were forever blurred, but it was consensual, and Draco liked it that way. Harry didn’t expect him to submit all the time, but he also never demanded that he suppress that part of himself to keep up pretence. While Draco didn’t have any regrets about any of his previous relationships, it was what Harry and he had built together that genuinely worked for him.

“Alright, everyone!”

Charlie’s cheerful exclamation drew Draco’s attention, and turning around, he watched Liam take several steps back. When Charlie nodded, he stopped and stood perfectly still. There wasn’t a flicker of fear in his eyes, and he seemed relaxed and at ease, but as Charlie slipped his hand through the wrist strap of his bullwhip, Draco couldn’t help but edge closer to Harry, who placed a hand on his hip and squeezed it gently.

“Are you sure this is going to end well?” Draco whispered.

Harry turned his head and smiled.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

Draco decided that he wasn’t entirely convinced, but he also decided to keep an open mind.

Charlie adjusted his grip on the whip’s handle, then expertly flexed it until he was happy with its position and his own stance.

“Liam? Ready?”

Liam smiled and nodded.

“Go for it, Master Charlie.”

Charlie turned his head to look at Draco.

“Right, watch this then,” he said.

He took a moment to concentrate, then brought his arm up and down in one dexterous and fluid motion to coax a loud crack out of his whip.

Draco watched as the thong moved through the air and created a small sonic boom that made him shiver. At the same time, the whip’s fall wrapped itself around Liam’s bare ankles, but he neither flinched nor howled in pain.

Draco felt his jaw drop and he stared in complete and utter disbelief.

Liam carefully stepped out of the leathery loop around his legs, and Charlie effortlessly pulled the whip back, waited for Liam to position himself, then cracked it again. This time the fall curled around Liam’s calves.

“Does this not hurt at all?” Draco wondered out loud.

Instead of answering the question, Charlie redirected it to Liam, who shook his head.

“Actually, it tickles,” he said with a smile.

Draco frowned.

Charlie sent the whip flying through the air for the third time, and it wrapped itself around Liam’s knees. On the fourth crack, it hugged his thighs, and on the fifth, it sneaked around his hips, then his waist, and finally his chest.

Liam slowly lifted his arms up above his head and positioned them so that he was protecting his ears and eyes. Charlie cracked the whip one last time, and the fall gently curled around Liam’s left wrist and forearm, and when Charlie tugged on the whip, Liam followed his wordless call and walked over to him.

“You were perfect, thank you, my boy.”

Charlie’s praise charmed a smile onto Liam’s face, and when he wrapped his arm around his slave and pulled him into a loving embrace, Liam melted into it.

The tender and unabashed display of affection warmed Draco’s heart, and when Harry squeezed his hip gently, it skipped a beat.

“Do you want to give it a go?” Charlie asked, and for a moment Draco struggled to comprehend his question, then he shook his head.

“I’m not going to whip Liam,” he said.

Charlie laughed.

“I would never let you. That privilege is mine and only mine. I’ll never share that with anyone. But if Harry consents and you dare, stand where Liam just stood and I’ll show you that it doesn’t hurt.”

Draco instinctively turned his head and looked at Harry, not because he wanted to ask for permission but because he wasn’t sure that this was a good idea. It seemed mad; however, Harry’s unperturbed expression instantly eased his nervousness a bit.

Harry smiled.

“I’ve stood where Liam stood. It doesn’t hurt, I promise. If you’re curious and you want to give it a go, I don’t mind consenting to Charlie giving you a few lashes.”

Draco briefly closed his eyes and shook his head.

“There’s so much wrong with that statement,” he mumbled.

Harry chuckled, then lowered his voice to a seductive, teasing whisper that sent a shudder of excitement surging down Draco’s spine.

“If you want a couple of lashes that actually hurt, I’d be only too happy to supply this later tonight.”

Draco winced.

“No thanks,” he said, shaking his head.

“My arse still hurts from your belt.”

Harry grinned.

“I’ll take a look at it when we get back. I’m sure I can do something to make you feel better.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but instead of continuing the conversation, he handed Harry his new and as of yet unused whip and walked over to the spot where Liam had stood a few minutes ago. He wasn’t feeling extraordinarily brave and was sure that the whole thing was a colossal mistake, but something inside of him egged him on, and so he took a deep breath and tried to tell his wildly thumping heart to take it easy.

“Ready,” Charlie called out to him.

Draco shook his head.

“No, and I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

“Close your eyes, my love,” Harry advised, and Draco decided to do just that.

He adjusted his stance, and clenching his fists, he pushed them against the outside of his thighs and focused on that pressure instead of what was about to happen. Several seconds of nothing past, then he suddenly felt a tickling sensation around his ankles, and his eyes instantly flew open. He stared down at his legs and the fall of Charlie’s whip. It lay there, snuggly curled around both his ankles and all he’d felt had been a tiny gust of wind and a bit of a tickle.

Draco shuddered and slowly lifted his gaze. He looked at Harry first, swallowed hard, then slowly glanced at Charlie, who smiled at him.

“Told ya,” he said.

“You did,” Draco mumbled.

He still couldn’t believe that he’d barely felt anything and when Charlie asked him whether he wanted another lash, Draco mutely nodded, except this time he kept his eyes open and focused on Harry, who held his gaze and smiled warmly.

Charlie cracked his whip again, and Draco felt the fall curl around his calves. His knees buckled a little, and he gasped softly. Harry’s knowing look woke the butterflies in his stomach, and they danced around madly, robbing him of his ability to remain focused on anything. His vision became muddled, and everything around him turned into a complete blur. He tried to concentrate on Harry and tried to drown out the rest of the world, but even that proved to be a little tricky.

Charlie’s whip teased around his knees, his thighs, his hips, his waist, his chest and eventually, after a bit of advice from Liam on how to position his arms, his wrists. The touch immediately reminded Draco of all those times when Harry pressed his thumb against his pulse point and circled over it to calm him, and he inhaled sharply. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry was moving closer to him and then felt two strong arms sneak around his waist. Closing his eyes, Draco simply melted into the embrace, buried his face against Harry’s neck and sighed. Harry hugged him tightly and ran the flat of his hand gently up and down along his spine. Draco felt the familiar tug of apparition in the pit of his stomach, and the world around him descended into a spinning blur.

A second later, Harry and he reappeared in one of the guestrooms on the cottage’s second floor, and Harry gently eased him onto the bed, then crawled after him and curled himself around him.

“If I’d known you’d have this kind of reaction to the tease of whip’s fall, I’d have asked Charlie to teach me a long, long time ago.”

Draco chuckled softly and buried his face in Harry’s chest. He could feel and hear Harry’s heartbeat and inhaling deeply, he breathed in Harry’s familiar scent.

“It wasn’t the tease of the whip but rather the way you were looking at me,” he mumbled.

A warm rumble of laughter erupted from the depths of Harry’s throat and the sound settled around Draco like a warm blanket.

“I was aiming for _you-are-fucking-sexy-as-hell-with-a-whip-wrapped-around-you,_ but I may have failed and given you _I-want-to-eat-you_ instead.”

Draco snorted with laughter and relished in the feeling of Harry tightening his hold on him.

“It was neither. Don’t ask me to describe it, I can’t, not now. I’ll write something about it in my journal in a few days. I need to digest it first.”

“Take all the time in the world, my little prince.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“No, thank you, my love. Thank you for being brave and thank you for giving me such an amazing gift.”

Even though they were alone in the room and curled up on the bed, Draco felt his cheeks heat, and he snuggled even further into Harry’s embrace or at least tried to.

“Is Charlie going to barge into the room and demand to know what happened?”

Harry chuckled.

“Nope, I think he trusts me to know how to handle my submissive boyfriend.”

Draco laughed.

“You just had to put the two together in one sentence, did you?”

In response, Harry combed his fingers through his hair, then kissed the top of his head.

“Of course, it takes both of them to describe you accurately.”

“You forgot an adjective. There’s also _sassy_.”

“I included that in boyfriend.”

Draco moved his head and looked at Harry, then shook his head.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work this way.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Nope.”

“I see. Fine. Let me take another crack at it. I think Charlie trusts me to know how to handle my sassy submissive boyfriend.”

“That’s so much better.”

Harry laughed.

“As long as you’re happy, my love.”

“I’m always happy with you.”

This time it was Harry’s turn to snort with laughter.

“Fuck me, Malfoy, now it’s you who’s laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

“Say those first two words again, please, Potter.”

Harry chuckled.

“Fuck me,” he said.

He deliberately lowered his voice to a seductive drawl, and Draco shuddered, then chanced his luck and moving swiftly, he flipped Harry onto his back, straddled him, and pinned his arms to the mattress.

“Feisty brat.”

Harry grinned but made no attempt to free himself.

Draco smirked.

“You know I am.”

“Oh, yes, you most definitely are.”

“Not going to fight me for your right to dominance?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do I need to fight you, my little prince?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Absolutely.

Harry smirked.

“I don’t think I do, my love. This is as far as you’ll ever take it.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry flashed him a positively devilish and wicked smile.

“Very, my little prince. I don’t need to fight you. You’re going to give me your submission quite willingly, aren’t you?”

Draco bit his bottom lip and toyed with it.

“You love surrendering yourself to me, my little prince. You love it when I wrap my hands around your wrists and hold you down. You want me to claim your mouth in a hot kiss. You want to be mine. You want me to decide exactly how I’m going to make you fall apart. You want me to take you and own you. You want me to have all of you, and you want me to decide what I’ll do with it. You want to feel me exert that power over you. It thrills you; it sets your skin on fire, and it makes your heart beat faster, and it’s already started. You just don’t want to resist me, do you, my little prince?”

The innocent question pierced right through Draco’s very core. His heart fluttered, and he felt his arms start to shake, and there was next to nothing he could do about it. Harry’s words ignited something fierce inside of him, and he honestly did not want to resist. It wasn’t weakness or a sense of inferiority or even worthlessness that governed his decision, no, it was the fact that he knew exactly how good it felt when he surrendered, gave in to the thrill, and let himself fall.

“Give me what I want, my little prince. You know you want to.”

Harry’s teasing voice send a shudder of excitement coursing through Draco, and he blinked, licked his lips and folding his arms, he rolled off Harry and allowed him to curl around him once more. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around him and peppered the side of his neck with tiny kisses.

“Thank you, my little prince. Thank you for your precious gift.”

Draco whimpered softly and closing his eyes, he focused entirely on the sensations of Harry’s firm grip and his tender kisses. He was both fiercely possessive and loving at the same time, and the mix of that was thoroughly intoxicating.

Suffice to say it took an entire hour before Draco managed to feel more like himself and his knees stopped feeling like jelly. When they reappeared in the living room, they found Charlie sitting on the sofa reading a book and Liam curled up at his feet, snuggled against his legs. They were both drinking coffee, and when Charlie lowered his book, his knowing smile made Draco blush a little.

He invited them to sit and feeling a bit sheepish, Draco waited for Harry to sit down first, then curled up on the sofa next to him.

_Sod appropriateness_, he thought and rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

Charlie placed a bookmark inside his book, snapped it closed and handed it to Liam, who took it and put it on the coffee table in front of him.

“So, here’s the deal, I was going to offer to teach you how to throw a whip, but it’s getting a bit late now, so I think we’ll have to postpone our first lesson. If you’re interested that is,” he said.

Draco lifted his head up and looked first at Harry, then focused on Charlie.

“You want to teach me how to throw a whip so that the fall curls around a person’s limbs without actually hurting them?”

Charlie nodded.

“Although, I’d start you on a cattleman’s crack first. Something straightforward to get you going. There’s a show at the club in a couple of months, and I can usually persuade Harry to show some of his skills off, but this year I’d like to talk you into it. If you want to be talked into it that is.”

Draco gapped.

He hadn’t quite expected to hear that and was a little bit stunned for words. Harry’s squeezed his hand and blinking a few times, Draco considered the offer.

“Isn’t it normally just D-types who sign up to show off their skills?”

Charlie shrugged.

“There’s nothing in the rulebook that says s-types can’t sign up. So, if you want, I’d be happy to take a bit of time and offer my guidance. Or if you’re more comfortable with Harry doing the teaching, I can give him a few pointers, and he’ll teach you.”

Draco considered the offer for a moment, then a thought struck him, and he started grinning.

“I want to win the competition,” he said, “Whichever one of you can make that happen, can teach me.”

Harry laughed, and Charlie chuckled with amusement.

“Alright, come by next Saturday. Harry bring your whip. I’ll show you all my tricks and Harry can show you his. You can ask Liam about stuff you don’t understand, then choose your mentor.”

Draco smirked.

“Let me get that straight, you want to compete against each other with the sole purpose of me choosing one of you to mentor me in preparation for a whip-cracking competition at the club?”

Charlie nodded.

“I haven’t trained in a while, my fingers are itching,” he said.

Draco shook his head.

“You are insane.”

“He’s also a damn good mentor, my love. If you were you, I’d take the deal. He’s a hundred times better than I am.”

Draco turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Harry.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Potter. And just so you know, if you lose on purpose, I’ll know.”

Harry laughed.

“I’m just as competitive as the next guy, Malfoy. I’d sooner consent to be put into Azkaban-grade shackles than lose a competition on purpose.”

Draco grinned.

“I’m sure I can manage to get my hands on a full set and Weasley here can teach me how to use them.”

“Keep on dreaming.”

* * *

* * *


	8. Director Potter, Sir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the feeling that I'm going to have to up the level of kink very very soon. So far, there's a whole lot of fluff going on. *grin*
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
Even though it was entirely unplanned and very much a last-minute decision, writing this sequel is honestly a ton of fun.
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments so far, you are an inspiration and I heart you dearly!
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Harry straightened out his scarlet Auror robes, took a deep breath, and gallantly stepped into the witness box, casually taking in the layout of the courtroom. Two Court Aurors stood guard in front of his stand.

To his left was the judges’ bench, presently occupied by three Wizengamot judges. Although Harry had bumped into each one of them on various occasions and had even spoken to them, he didn’t know them exceptionally well.

However, Draco had informed him that they were just, reasonable, open-minded, and without any bias. All three judges also took their responsibilities seriously and weren’t the sort to be fooled by any attempts to delay trial proceedings. Harry thought that Kingsley had chosen the right people for the job, and he hoped they would ensure that the defence didn’t unnecessarily waste his time.

In front of the judges, on a slightly lower bench sat the official court recorder and the judges’ clerks. All four of them had their noses buried in their work and barely spared a moment to look up.

In the dock across from Harry sat the accused, and he tried his best not to glare at him. Reginald Warrenforth wore a smart dark-grey business suit and plain black wizarding robes, and Harry clenched and unclenched his wand hand at his side. While he agreed that everyone was entitled to a fair trial, he couldn’t quench the desire to stride across the room and punch Warrenforth in the face. He disliked the man and had done so ever since he’d had the displeasure of interrogating him following his arrest at Heathrow Airport, where he’d tried to get on a Muggle aeroplane bound for Antigua.

Hastily focusing his attention elsewhere, Harry glanced at the three rows of sturdy wooden benches, facing the judges’ bench, in front of the dock. Warrenforth’s defence barrister sat in the first row, in the row behind her sat her clerks, and Warrenforth’s solicitor had temporarily taken up residence in the last row and was currently busy scribbling notes into a file.

Draco and his legal team occupied the three rows of robust wooden benches directly in front of the witness box, and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

While the defence barrister’s desk looked like someone had cast _Reducto_ on it, everything on Draco’s desk was in perfect order, and Harry watched him reach for a carafe filled with water. He refilled his empty glass, took a few sips, then set it down on a coaster beside the carafe.

Draco’s clerk, his legal assistant, a prosecutor-in-training, and someone else from the prosecutor’s chambers filled the two rows behind Draco. The files on their desks were also neatly arranged, and Harry had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smirking. Draco didn’t mind a bit of disorder here and there, but when it came to his work, he couldn’t stand any form of chaos.

Since the open-plan offices in the Prosecutor’s Chambers were in a permanent state of mayhem, Harry sympathised with Draco’s burning desire to escape the madness whenever he could get away with it. Their coffee house in Notting Hill was Draco’s port in a storm and not even the privacy of his own office, combined with an extra-strong Silencing Charm on its door, could match that.

Harry’s eyes fell back onto Draco, and he felt his brows furrow into a frown. Draco had been looking and feeling slightly run down for a few days now, and it showed. Harry suspected that he was coming down with something, possibly some sort of viral infection or other ― Draco rarely got sick, but when he did, it was usually bad.

Draco had started the trial on a high but these days Warrenforth’s defence barrister was quite deliberately trying to provoke him. She was intentionally pushing all of his buttons, hoping to see him fly into a blind rage in open court. Harry thought it rather amusing. She clearly didn’t know Draco very well. While he was capable of suddenly becoming violently angry, he’d never do so at a trial.

Yes, the press called him a fire-spewing dragon who never showed any sort of mercy, but whenever Draco lost it in court, he did so with the utmost eloquence. He was passionate about the law, and he had a way with words that left Harry not only speechless but also breathless. But what amazed him most was that despite Draco’s fluent, forcible, elegant, and persuasive speaking, the easiest way to bring him to his knees was to use words.

While Harry knew how to make Draco melt with a gentle touch, a small gesture, or even just something as simple as a smile, it hadn’t taken him long to work out that his words always robbed Draco is his sanity. They’d discussed it a few times and come to the conclusion that Draco didn’t want to resist him, didn’t even want to try, and he proved it often enough.

Around him, but especially in the privacy of their own home, Draco was a lot more open, vulnerable, and willing to reveal his innermost thoughts and feelings. He didn’t close himself off, and he rarely concealed his emotions. Well, occasionally, he tried, but he’d yet to successfully hoodwink Harry. Sometimes, especially when he sensed that Draco wasn’t ready to talk, Harry consciously stopped himself from digging too deep, but he always knew that something was up.

Draco’s lack of protective barriers was precisely why Harry always succeeded in worming his way under Draco’s skin. There was nothing that blocked his way, and if Harry was absolutely honest, there never had been. Back at Hogwarts, Draco had always been on his mind. He’d always stood out, and Harry had always noticed him. They’d had that conversation over breakfast a couple of weeks ago, and after Harry had shared his thoughts, Draco had smiled at him over the rim of his coffee cup and nodded.

_Potter, you were my kryptonite long before I knew the meaning of the word_, he’d said after and glancing at Draco now, Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He was extremely grateful when Draco chose precisely that moment to rise to his feet and clear his throat.

Draco smoothed out his elegant black prosecutor’s robes, reached for his Eagle feather quill and opened the topmost file on his desk. He glanced at his notes, then lifted his head and addressed the judges in front of him, and after a short speech, he turned his head slightly to the right.

For the first time since Harry had entered the witness box, Draco actually looked at him, and it was with a heavy heart that Harry noted the dark circles underneath Draco’s eyes. They hadn’t been quite so pronounced this morning when they’d sat down for breakfast together, but now they were a little more evident than Harry would have liked them to be.

He stifled a sigh and smiling politely, he inclined his head.

“Director Potter, Sir, thank you for your time this morning.”

Draco’s voice was raspy and slightly gruff, and Harry thought that it looked like his throat hurt.

For a second, Harry wanted to say something sarcastic. However, since it hadn’t been Draco who had subpoenaed him, he decided against being a smartarse. There was a time and a place for that, and it wasn’t in open court.

“You’re most welcome, Prosecutor Malfoy,” he said but sent an icy death glare into the general direction of Warrenforth’s defence barrister.

She’d been the one who’d hand-delivered the legal document that compelled him to attend today’s judicial proceedings as a witness. Harry really didn’t know what she hoped to achieve with her summons, but over the last few years, Harry had received enough subpoena ad testificandum to understand how to deal with them.

Occasionally, a special appearance in the judges’ chambers was enough, but some barristers stubbornly insisted that the Director of the Auror Department himself appear in court to make his statement. Each writ, Harry received, was a colossal waste of his time. They always turned his schedule upside down.

Afterwards, he usually ended up working overtime for days on end just to get through his workload. His secretary hated court orders as much as he did as it forced her to immediately dispatch several dozen interdepartmental memos to reschedule his meetings and other pressing engagements.

“Director Potter, Sir, I’ve just got a few questions I’d like to ask you. If you wouldn’t mind telling the court, approximately, and please be as precise as you possibly can, how often do you personally appear at a crime scene?”

Harry thoroughly appreciated Draco’s professionalism and admired his ability to disregard their personal relationship in favour of making this quick and painless. However, there was a flicker of something odd in Draco’s eyes that Harry really didn’t like. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was convinced that something was wrong and it worried him.

“I make an appearance when I feel that my presence is required.”

“On what do you base this decision, Director Potter, Sir?”

“Various factors. If the Lead Auror on the case is relatively inexperienced, I might make an appearance to oversee the initial investigation. If I deem the Lead Auror, despite their lack of experience, capable of handling the investigation, I will remain in the background or assign a Senior Auror to supervise and offer additional training. If the nature of the case requires my input, expertise, or direct investigation, I will take a trip into the field. If my Senior Aurors require my assistance I will make an appearance.”

“In Reginald Warrenforth’s case, you decided not to make an appearance at the initial crime scene, is that correct, Director Potter, Sir?”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, that’s correct. The MLEP officers on duty flagged Reginald Warrenforth’s shop to our department, suspecting him to keeping non-tradable goods. One of my Junior Aurors caught the case, and he and his partner apparated out to the location to check it out. Auror Rowan and his partner handled the case admirably. Unfortunately, the DMLE regularly comes across cases of illegal possession of non-tradable goods, and those cases are usually quite straightforward. If I was to make an appearance every time the MLEP flags us one of those cases, I might as well hand Minister Shacklebolt my resignation today and join the squad on the beat.”

Several low chuckles echoed through the courtroom, and even Draco smiled faintly.

“I’m certain the MLEP squad would appreciate your expertise and duelling skills, Director Potter, Sir.”

Harry nodded and responded with a smile of his own, but frowned when he noticed Draco grip the edge of his desk to steady himself.

“Perhaps, although I can assure you the MLEP squad is hardworking and excellent at what they do. They most definitely can handle themselves without my intervention.”

“Talking about intervention, Director Potter, Sir, when did you decide that Auror Rowan and his partner could benefit from your knowledge?”

“Right around the time that Auror Rowan flagged an abnormality in the case to one of my Senior Aurors who noted that the case appeared to be connected to one of her cold cases and immediately came to my office, asking for my input. You see, Prosecutor Malfoy, we at the DMLE take memory-tampering very seriously and my team knows to follow the chain of command. I’d rather my Aurors seek my advice before they get themselves into a whole lot of unnecessary trouble.”

“Barrister Norton appears to be under the impression that you were―”

Draco paused to check his notes, and while doing so, he reached for his water glass and took a sip. Harry noted that he was still holding on to the edge of the table and also appeared to be swearing slightly. He raised his eyebrow in a silent question, but Draco ignored him and cleared his throat, then continued with his interrogation.

“Like I just said Barrister Norton appears to be under the impression that you insisted on taking over the case, maltreated her client and verbally abused him on several occasions. Could you give the court your version of events, Director Potter, Sir?”

Draco coughed a little, then produced a white cotton handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. Much to Harry’s growing concern, Draco’s eyes had glazed over, and he looked like he was about to pass out.

“My version of the events is relatively straightforward, and I’d be happy to provide Pensieve proof. Senior Auror Watkins flagged the case to me, and after a short perusal of Auror Rowan’s case notes and Auror Watkins cold case file, I deemed it necessary to check out Reginald Warrenforth’s shop. Upon my arrival Mr Warrenforth was extremely hostile, insulted me personally and drew his wand to attack one of my Aurors. I persuaded him, with the assistance of a spell or two, to join me for an informal chat at the Ministry while my team of Aurors turned his shop upside down and unearthed rather worrying evidence of several other crimes.

“Following the raid, I personally invited Mr Warrenforth to spend twenty-four hours in our holding cells, and when the extent of his crimes became apparent, I told him exactly what I thought of him. Despite our best attempts, Mr Warrenforth’s solicitor managed to have him released on bail, and he immediately attempted to flee the country. I personally apprehended him at Heathrow Airport, and because he resisted arrest, our team of Obliviators had to work two days’ worth of overtime. Upon returning Barrister Norton’s client to our holding cells, I told him exactly what I thought of filth like him, and my opinion hasn’t changed in the slightest.”

“Thank you, Dir―”

Draco paused mid-sentence and coughed. His hand slipped, and he floundered a little.

One of the judges spoke up.

“Prosecutor Malfoy, are you OK?”

Draco waved her off.

“I’m fine.”

He steadied himself once more, but when he turned his head to look at him, Harry furrowed his brows. Draco’s face was whiter than a sheet of paper, and his eyes had fully glazed over, and he appeared unfocused. Harry’s unease instantly increased tenfold, and he shuffled from one leg to the other.

“Apologies. Thank you, Director Potter, Sir, for your detailed recount―”

Overcome by a sudden coughing fit, Draco paused again, braced himself on his desk and lowered his head. He attempted to reach for his water but missed and promptly sent the glass sailing to the ground.

Harry thrust his hand out, and wandlessly slowed the glasses’ fall, then levitated it back onto the table.

Meanwhile, Draco lost his balance, and his hand slid off the edge of the desk.

Harry’s instincts took over and governed his response.

Before the Court Aurors had the chance to react, he jumped out of the witness box, over their heads and into the centre of the courtroom.

A series of loud gasps along with a firm reprimand from one of the judges reverberated around the room, but Harry ignored them. Instead, he dashed over to Draco, expertly steadied him and helped him to sit down.

His hand flew to Draco’s forehead, which felt hot, unpleasantly damp and sticky. Small beads of sweat trickled down Draco’s temples, and his pupils were dilated.

Harry swore under his breath.

“Fuck, Draco, you’re burning up.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Draco pressed his lips firmly together and turning his head, Harry directed his next words at the three judges. They’d all stood up and were looking down at Draco with great concern.

“Can we please adjourn this session?”

Judge Sears nodded and reaching for her gavel, she first controlled the mumbling spectators in the gallery, then officially adjourned the court until further notice. She and her colleagues then immediately left through the door that led to the judges’ chambers.

Meanwhile, Harry solicited the help of one of the Court Aurors, and together they accompanied Draco out of the courtroom and back to his office, where Harry thanked the Court Auror for his help, then insisted that Draco lie down on the leather sofa on the far side of his office.

“I’m fine.”

Draco protested meekly, then coughed and rolled onto his side, looking thoroughly miserable.

Harry glared at him and crouched down beside the sofa.

“You are not fine, Draco. You’re running a fever, you’re sweaty, pale and shivery and you look like you’re five inches away from going into pseudo-subspace.”

Draco grumbled something entirely incomprehensible and Harry helped him to get out of his robes. He folded them neatly and placed them on top of the sofa’s armrest, then took Draco’s shoes off.

Taking his Auror robes off, Harry stood up, walked over to Draco’s desk and poured him a glass of water. He cast a mild warming charm on it to raise its temperature, then returned to Draco’s side and helping him to sit up a little, he offered him the warm water.

Draco closed a shaky hand around the glass, slowly brought it up to his lips and took a few sips, then rested the glass in his lap.

“Thanks. Fuck, I feel like death warmed up.”

Harry chuckled.

“You look it too.”

Draco twisted his head and attempted to glare at him.

With a smile, Harry combed his fingers through Draco’s damp hair and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Should have put my foot down this morning and told you to call in sick.”

“Meh.”

“Don’t you meh at me, Draco Malfoy, I am taking you home in a minute, and you’re going straight to bed. It’s Pepper-Up, bed rest, and cold leg compresses for you.”

Draco coughed, then grimaced.

“You’re an abysmal salesman, Potter, do you know that? You could at least throw some chicken soup on top of that.”

“Oh, believe me, there’ll be plenty of chicken soup. I’ll firecall the Burrow and get Molly to bring some over.”

Draco groaned.

“Whatever have I done to you to deserve such a punishment?” he lamented. “Isn’t it enough that I’m on my deathbed already?”

Harry laughed.

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Malfoy.”

“Hmpf, I’ll be a drama queen whenever it suits me, Potter, and there isn’t a bloody thing you can do about it.”

Harry shook his head and smiled in apparent amusement.

“Fine, be a drama queen,” he said and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“My dramatic little prince, you are adorable.”

“I am not adorable, I’m a menacing dragon.”

Draco coughed, attempted to drink some more water but spluttered right into his glass. Harry patted his back gently, then rubbed slow circles.

“This fever is making you delirious, my little prince. Come on, time to get you home.”

Harry slowly moved to get up, but Draco held him back. Sinking back down into the cushions, Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“Can you not―?”

Draco trailed off and turned his head away, clearly embarrassed.

“Can I not what?” Harry asked.

He placed two fingers underneath Draco’s chin and turned his head, applying gentle force to get him to meet his eye.”

“Not what?” he asked again.

He purposefully kept his voice soft and gentle, and Draco’s eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Harry gently caressed his hot and sweaty cheeks and smiled.

“Tell me.”

“Please don’t call me your little prince, not right now.”

Draco mumbled the words, looking quite abashed.

Harry nodded knowingly.

“All that _Director Potter, Sir_ was a bit much today, wasn’t it?”

Draco hummed.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

“It’s never bothered me before.”

“You’re not well today, this is completely understandable, my love. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. Everyone has off-days and today was yours.”

Draco closed his eyes and snuggled into him.

Harry instinctively tightened his hold on him and kissed the top of his head.

“Why are you so perfect, Potter?”

Draco’s mumbled question made Harry chuckle. The only reason Draco was talking like that was because he was running a high fever.

“I’m not perfect, I just happen to be head over heels in love with you. Come on, I’ll take you home and pamper you like you’ve never been pampered before.”

Harry slowly got up, helped Draco to put his shoes back on, then pulled him up and off the sofa, and wrapped his arms around him.

Draco sneaked his arms around his waist and snuggled close.

“Harry?”

“Hm? What is it, my love?”

“Please never unlove me.”

Smiling, Harry squeezed Draco gently.

“I promise.”

* * *

* * *


	9. I Had The Best Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the writing process, you ultimately come across a chapter that makes you wonder whether you have any talent whatsoever. I tried to read comments to pep me up, then skimmed over a few chapters of the first LPK just to see whether I might be able to copy the mood, then decided to have an epic meltdown, which my brother thankfully shut down immediately. Thanks for that, **K**.
> 
> Somehow, and don't ask me how, I managed to get past the massive blockage in my head but then had to stop writing because it was getting late and I could barely keep my eyes open any longer. Either way, I think I managed to nail the chapter and I'm proud of it. I think I captured the mood I set in the original story and I really hope you'll enjoy this scene.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Harry carefully extinguished the candle in his hand and levitated the leftover stump over to the non-flammable wax play box on the nightstand beside the bed, then admired his artwork with a proud smile.

He and Draco hadn’t played with wax for a couple of months. It wasn’t something they did regularly but saved for special occasions, and after having fully recovered from his truly nasty bout of the flu, Draco had requested it, confessing it was something he’d been craving for a few weeks. Harry had been only too happy to indulge him and looking at Draco’s beautiful wax-covered backside, he had no regrets whatsoever about his decision.

Draco looked stunning, truly mesmerisingly beautiful.

Compared to his pale white milky skin, the black low-temperature paraffin wax was a stark contrast, and Harry couldn’t stop staring. Draco was exquisite and truly breath-taking.

Harry couldn’t and didn’t want to get enough.

This beautiful man, currently sprawled out on top of a set of exquisite silvery-grey satin sheets, was his and his alone and the knowledge of that set every fibre of his body on fire.

Draco was his little prince.

His.

His to touch.

His to kiss.

His to play with.

His to treasure.

His to hurt.

His to worship.

His to love.

His to mark.

His to care for.

His.

Only his.

The thought had an intense and exhilarating effect on Harry, and for a moment, he struggled to fill his lungs with an adequate amount of oxygen. It felt like he’d had a bit too much to drink, except he was still lucid and coherent and for as long as his own logical reasoning wasn’t in any way impaired, he saw no reason to put an end to their playtime.

He’d spent the last hour using Draco’s body as his own personal canvas, painting Draco’s pet name onto his back with stinging hot melted wax. Harry was more than just pleased with the result of his efforts; the sense of satisfaction, he currently felt, ran deep. It had seeped right through his pores, into his bones, mixing with the very core of his being. He wanted to remember this moment for all eternity and taking his time to let the scene sink in, he smiled.

In addition to using black wax to write the words _little prince_ onto Draco’s back, he’d also used burgundy-coloured candle wax to drip create an intricate web of curved lines and loops on Draco’s shoulders, his arms, his firm round buttocks — which glowed red after the earlier spanking he’d subjected them to — and the back of his thighs. It looked almost like a tattoo of some kind, and it had taken forever to complete.

Reaching out, Harry gently traced the words on Draco’s back, delighting in the tiny tremors that shook Draco’s body and the little hisses and contented sighs that fell from his lips.

After the continuous stings of drops of hot wax, Draco’s skin was slightly reddened and extremely sensitive to the touch. Harry thoroughly loved the effect his innocent teasing touches had on Draco, who whimpered softly as he drifted, untroubled by the world around him, somewhere between reality and his own little fantasy world.

“You are perfect, my little prince.”

He whispered sweet words of praise and Draco’s soft mewl made the butterflies in the pit of his heart flutter. Harry’s heart skipped a beat and feeling exhilarated, Harry leant forward. He placed his hands on either side of Draco’s shoulders, then pressed a lingering kiss to Draco’s temple, briefly closing his eyes as he did so. He inhaled Draco’s familiar scent and let it cloud his senses for a few moments. Draco smelled of love and trust and a prevailing aroma of vanilla and fresh citrus. It was intoxicating and not for the first time, Harry wished he could crawl into Draco and remain there forever.

“You are everything I ever wanted, my sweet little prince.”

Draco hummed softly and huffed out a breath of air. He was entirely at ease, and Harry was confident that even if he kneaded every inch of Draco’s body, he wouldn’t be able to find a single tense muscle.

He peppered the side of Draco’s face with tiny kisses, then set out to pamper the rest of Draco’s body with the sort of tender barely-there caress he knew could drive Draco wild. He used only the tips of his fingers and traced the beautiful wax painting he’d created on the one man he’d come to love and cherish more than anything in this world.

Whenever Harry brushed over a particularly sensitive area of Draco’s marked body, Draco shuddered and sighed softly.

In response, Harry smiled.

“You’re sinfully beautiful, my love. Being allowed to play with you is an honour, a true delight. You are my happiness.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco wasn’t capable of making a more eloquent response and whimpered softly instead.

Harry smiled against his skin and pressed another kiss to his temple, then left a trail of butterfly kisses down Draco’s cheek, and nipped at Draco’s earlobe, playfully toying with it.

He teased it with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth and bit it ever so gently. Draco let out a little moan and chuckling, Harry used the tip of his tongue to trace the shell of Draco’s ear, delighting in a series of tiny shivers that he could feel surge through Draco’s body as it reacted to the stimulation.

Draco’s fingers curled around the satin bedsheet beneath him. He squirmed, shifted, and a soft sigh fell from his lips.

Harry exhaled, blowing hot air all over Draco’s ear.

“Hm, my delectable little prince, are you enjoying yourself, my love?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry thoroughly delighted in Draco’s enthusiastic response and kissed his earlobe, deliberately lingering and sucking the soft flesh back into his mouth, allowing his tongue to flirt with it.

While he’d dripped wax all over Draco’s back, his little prince had filled the room with the most delightful sounds; sounds Harry could not get enough of, sounds that filled his ears and created the most beautiful and most fantastic images in his head. He was utterly addicted to Draco’s breathless sighs and his exquisite tiny whimpers. He’d panted, hummed, and moaned, and before long, he’d drifted off and lost himself in another world, a place where the only sensations that mattered to him were feeling the sting of hot melted wax splashing onto his skin.

Harry had, of course, kept a very close eye on him and checked in every once in a while. He’d certainly allowed Draco to float and dally with subspace, but he’d also made sure that Draco remained coherent enough to, at any given time, be able to tell him what his name was and where they were.

The last he wanted was for Draco to sink so deep into his haze that he was unable to respond to the simplest of questions and follow important instructions. There was consensual play, and there was mindless delirium, and Harry was not a fan of the latter. It was dangerous and, in his opinion, indulging in it was reckless and bordered on insanity.

Where wax play was concerned and given Draco’s unfavourable history with Fiendfyre and his subsequent struggle with pyrophobia, Harry didn’t like taking chances.

Draco’s wellbeing was his main concern, and he wanted his little prince to know that he was safe, loved, and cared for ― always and without exception.

Over the last two years, there’d never once been a reason for Draco to question his safety and Harry liked to keep it that way. It allowed him to relax and fully enjoy each time he and Draco played together, no matter whether they engaged in intense scenes up in Harry’s playroom or low-key versions in their bedroom or while on holiday.

Draco’s consent and his submission were powerful enough to bring Harry to his knees and drive him to the brink of madness in the most perfect way imaginable. He was utterly defenceless against the effects they had on him, and he cherished Draco’s gifts to him more than anything in the world.

“I’ve a little surprise for you, my little prince.”

“Will you tell me, Sir?”

Harry chuckled against Draco’s ear, purposefully sending a jolt of excitement through him.

“Hm, I could, but you know what, I don’t think I will. So, no. Stay here and don’t move, OK?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Mmm, that’s my good boy.”

Draco mewled softly and kissing his cheek, Harry moved off the bed and walked the short distance over to the spacious en-suite bathroom that was part of the playroom. He pulled the door open and retrieved a small ceramic bowl, which he’d covered with a Stasis Charm, from the marble top beside the sink.

Surprise in hand, Harry closed the bathroom door and returned to the large, comfortable play bed. He climbed onto it and positioning himself so that his knees were at the same level as Draco’s hips, he sat back on his haunches, and ended the Stasis Charm, then wandlessly cast a different spell altogether.

The round ice cubes inside the bowl immediately began to thaw a little, and their outermost layer became smooth and watery. Harry reached into the bowl, lifted a single frozen water sphere out and shuddering slightly at the cold, he shook some of the excess water off but made sure not to hit Draco with any of it.

“Ready, my little prince?” he asked.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then hummed, signalling his approval, but followed up with verbal consent.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

He was eager to witness Draco’s reactions to what he had planned for him. It was only the fact that they were in the middle of an intense scene that stopped him from bouncing up and down with the excitement, he barely managed to contain.

He’d told Draco that he could expect sensation play and temperature play during today’s scene, but apart from promising to cover Draco in wax, he hadn’t divulged any specifics and Draco had been okay with that ― another silent testament of his level of trust in Harry.

They’d experimented with sensation and temperature play before, but up until now, Harry had always used a variation of the Bluebell Flames or charmed an object to feel cold.

He’d never used actual ice cubes.

Placing his dry hand on Draco’s skin, near his lower back, Harry delighted in the fact that the pale and pink flesh still felt hot to the touch.

Feeling devious, Harry made Draco wait for another few moments, then he slowly moved his hand and positioned the steadily melting frozen water sphere so that a few drops of ice-cold water fell onto Draco’s heated skin.

In response to the unexpected unfamiliar sensation, Draco shuddered and let out a gasp, followed by a sharp sibilant sound.

“_Ngh_, f―_ngh_, cold!” he exclaimed.

Harry silently commended him for not swearing and moving his hand, he let a few more icy drops of water splash onto Draco’s skin.

Draco hissed and squirmed.

“_Ngh_!”

Harry smirked.

“OK?” he asked.

“_Ngh_, yes, Sir.”

Harry placed the ice cube on the small of Draco’s back and delighted in the way Draco squirmed and wriggled on top of the slippery satin sheets. He gently guided the frozen water sphere up along Draco’s spine, enjoying the way he shuddered at the intense cold.

“My sexy little snake, stop wriggling quite so much,” Harry reprimanded him.

He made sure to keep his voice low and soft since he didn’t really mind Draco’s reaction to the cold but enjoyed being able to exert his power and tease Draco a bit here and there.

Draco whimpered but tried his best to remain still, and Harry continued to move the ice cube over Draco’s heated skin, only stopping once the last bit of it had fully melted into a small puddle of cold water that pooled between Draco’s shoulder blades.

Before reaching for a second ice cube, Harry cast a mild warming charm and let it tingle over Draco’s skin. It wasn’t warm enough to melt the wax, but it certainly removed some of the lingering aftereffects of the ice. He then reached for that second ice cube and once again starting at the small of Draco’s back, he guided the frozen water sphere in a slow zig-zag motion over Draco’s left butt cheek and along the back of his thigh, then up again.

He used a third ice cube to subject Draco’s right butt cheek and the back of his right thigh to the same treatment, then paused to pepper the spaces between Draco’s temporary wax tattoo with tiny kisses, ever so slowly working his way up. Harry used his tongue to lap up some of the melted water, and when his kisses reached Draco’s neck, he nibbled at the soft flesh, sucked it into his mouth and gradually increased the intensity with which he continued to draw the skin into his mouth.

Draco moaned softly, and Harry brought his teeth into the mix. He slowly pinched the sensitive skin with his front teeth, a good mouthful of it, then let his canines dig a little deeper, teasing the most delectable sound from the depths of Draco’s body while he inflicted exquisite pain. Draco’s answer to is teasing wasn’t a whimper, and it wasn’t a moan either, yet, somehow, it was all of this, breathy and sinfully erotic, with a bit of a sweet mewl thrown into the mix to give it an extra little twist.

Harry added a tiny little more zest to his bite, and Draco’s already alluringly beautiful reaction turned into an open-mouthed whine that turned into a bit of a cry when Harry pulled his teeth off Draco’s neck without relaxing his jaws first. He soothed the abused and marked skin with his tongue and a generous amount of warm saliva, digging the tip of it into the rather prominent little dibs his teeth had left behind in the dark-red almost purple flesh.

“Tell me, my little prince, are you mine?”

Harry asked the question against Draco’s neck, knowing his voice would send pleasant vibrations all over the tender flesh, he’d just claimed with his mouth, teeth, and lips.

Draco exhaled audibly, and a shudder surged through him.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me then,” Harry murmured, balancing on the edge of blissful delirium.

“Tell me you’re mine, my little prince. I want to hear you say it. Tell me.”

“I’m yours, Sir.”

“Mmm, good boy. Again, tell me one more time.”

“I’m yours, Sir.

“Yes, you are. You are mine. Mine, mine, mine.”

Draco let out a little sob, not because he was hurt, but because of the effect Harry’s words had on him and the feelings his response evoked, allowing him to slide deeper into his submission, and let go a little more of himself.

“_Ngh_.”

Harry smiled.

He chuckled against Draco’s neck. He didn’t need access to Draco’s mind to know what he was thinking about.

“I own you, my little prince. You belong to me. Your smart mouth, your beautiful mind, every inch of you, all mine, mine, mine.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“_Ngh_, you drive me crazy. I want to keep you for all eternity. May I?”

Draco whimpered helplessly.

“Yes, Sir.”

For today’s scene, Harry hadn’t restrained Draco in any way, he hadn’t deemed it necessary. There were no ropes, no cuffs and no blindfold, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that his words wound themselves around Draco’s body tighter than any string of exquisite bondage rope he possessed.

“Tell me again you’re mine, my sweet little prince, and keep saying it.”

“I’m yours, Sir. Yours, always yours. You can have it all, Sir, body and soul. Take it, please, Sir, please.”

Harry shuddered and pressing his lips to Draco’s neck, he hummed.

A zap of excitement jolted down his spine and pooled low in his groin, then spread outward, consuming him. A wave of white-hot warmth washed over him, and he sighed softly, contently.

“I will take you, my little prince, of that you can be sure.”

Draco whimpered again, and Harry ran his hand down Draco’s left arm in search of his pulse point on the inside of his wrist. He found it without removing his lips from Draco’s neck, pressed his thumb against it, then circled the familiar spot.

“Mine. My good boy. Mine. My perfect little prince. Mine, just mine, only mine, always mine.”

“Yours, Sir. Gladly.”

Harry huffed out a breath of air and chuckled against Draco’s neck. He reached for another ice cube and adjusting his position slightly, he ran the cold frozen water sphere from the back of Draco’s neck, along his spine, and down to his lower back. He paused for a moment there, then guided the ice cube along the crack between Draco’s butt cheeks, knowing the cold water would trickle between them.

Draco shuddered and moaned, and Harry teased along the crack until the frozen water sphere had melted completely. He let his cold fingers slip into the crack and teased the sensitive flesh, then channelled a wandless warming charm through his fingertips. Knowing that he didn’t have to worry about inadvertently melting any part of his wax artwork, he used a considerably higher temperature. Draco moaned and pushed into the touch, silently begging for more.

After a while, Harry ended the spell and reached for another ice cube, but this time, he gently eased it into the crack, teasing Draco’s most private part. The slowly melting water trickled down to Draco’s hole, and he moaned, arched his back and whimpered. Harry guided the ice cube over and around the furrowed skin and delighted in the way the muscles of Draco’s sphincter flexed at the extreme cold, then teased the frozen water sphere along Draco’s perineum, threatening to torment his balls with it.

“_Ngh_, Sir―”

“Yes, my little prince?”

Draco moaned.

Harry teasingly moved the ice cube back to Draco’s hole and pressed it against the ring of muscles around his hole.

Draco shuddered.

A breathless curse fell from his lips, and Harry watched as he bit his bottom lip sharply and flushed a deep shade of crimson.

Instead of verbally reprimanding Draco for his use of foul language, Harry doubled his efforts and pressed the ice cube against the tight muscle around Draco’s hole. It fought him at first, then eventually slowly relaxed and the sphere slipped inside. Harry pushed it fully in, and following with his finger, he used a warming charm to melt the ice.

Draco groaned.

He shuddered and squirmed.

Harry bit his shoulder and moved his finger inside of him, pulling it out and pushing it back inside. He teased and tormented Draco for several long minutes, then reached for the last ice cube and taunted Draco’s hole with it. He dragged the ice over and around Draco’s tight hole and eventually pushed it inside.

Draco grunted and twisted beneath him, and Harry bit his shoulder harder, silently forcing him to still his movements.

He pushed his finger into Draco, cast a warming charm and gradually increased its intensity, melting the ice cube and slowly finger-fucking Draco at the same time.

Grabbing a pillow, Harry dragged it down, trailing hungry little kisses down Draco’s spine on his way. With a bit of assistance from Draco, he positioned the pillow underneath his hips, ensured that Draco was comfortable, then used both his hands to drag Draco’s arse cheeks apart. He buried his face between them and lapped at Draco’s warm wet hole, flicking his tongue around it and over it.

Draco groaned and whimpered.

“Sir, please―”

He mewled.

Harry pressed the tip of his tongue against Draco’s hole, pleased when the muscle immediately relaxed and granted him entrance as though it wanted nothing more but to trap him right there, keeping him as intimately close as he could possibly get to Draco. He pushed his tongue inside, then pulled back and repeated the action several times over.

Draco moaned.

“_Ngh_, please, yes, please, Sir, don’t― please don’t stop, please.”

Harry slurped, lapping up the excess water from the melted ice cubes and some of his own saliva.

Draco’s groans remained continuous but grew muffled as he turned his head and pressed his face into the soft, crisp sheets beneath him. His breathing became heavier, then began to fluctuate as his body convulsed.

Harry let his tongue whirl around Draco’s hole, bathing it with warm wet saliva, then pressed his tongue inside. He moved it in and out of Draco’s tight channel and lost himself in the powerful sounds that fell from Draco’s lips. He writhed and squirmed, and his hole contracted around Harry’s tongue.

In response, Harry pushed Draco’s arse cheeks further apart and squeezed them. He let his right thumb slip down to Draco’s hole, pressed against the now loose muscle and pushed inside, opening him up even further.

Draco shivered and squirmed, and Harry pushed his thumb just past his knuckle. He pressed the tip against the sensitive walls, then tongued Draco with wild abandon, determined to make him fall apart, delighting in the silky-smooth texture of the delicate skin around Draco’s most private part. Draco trembled, shuddered and shook, and his moans grew louder, filling the room and intoxicating Harry’s mind.

He delighted in how simple it was to make Draco fall apart at the seams, and as he continued to rim his perfect little prince, Harry’s free hand travelled to Draco’s balls. He enthusiastically stimulated the delicate skin around it, squeezed them gently and toyed with Draco’s hard cock.

In-between Draco’s pants and his steadily incoherent pleas for more, he somehow managed to ask for permission to come and Harry took his sweet time to answer him.

When he finally did, he denied Draco, then kissed his cheek and marked his other shoulder with a rather prominent bite mark.

“Not yet, my little prince, I’ve only just started playing with you,” he whispered.

Draco whimpered pitifully and breathlessly begged him to show some mercy.

Harry chuckled and turned his desperate plea down right away.

A wretched sob fell from Draco’s lips, and he gulped in large amounts of air in a desperate attempt to somehow calm him.

Harry doubted he would be successful but highly commended Draco for his efforts to try and control himself.

He slightly adjusted Draco’s current pose, pulling him into a bit more of kneeling position with his arms extended far above his head and continued to tease Draco with untamed, ferocious delight. He used his mouth and hands to keep Draco hovering right at the edge of unadulterated pleasure and allowed him to fill the room with any and all sounds he had to offer, effectively drowning out the background music, Harry had chosen before starting this afternoon’s session.

After several minutes of truly mind-twisting, heart-stopping, toe-curling teasing, Harry stopped, allowed Draco to regain a tiny portion of his composure, then shuffled and summoned a simple dark-grey broad silk band. He slipped it over Draco’s eyes and tied it at the back, then kissed Draco’s cheek.

“OK?” he whispered.

Draco hummed.

He filled his air with lungs, then responded.

“_Ngh_, yes, Sir.”

“Good boy, I’m going to put some leather cuffs on you and tie them to the bed. Are you OK with that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“Perfect.”

He retrieved the cuffs from the top drawer of the nightstand. He’d put them there earlier to keep them out of Draco’s sight, knowing that the combination of bondage and wax play had the potential to unnerve him.

Kissing Draco’s shoulder gently, he first fastened the cuffs to the bed’s headboard, then reached for Draco’s left hand, slipped it through the leather restraint and secured it. He sought out the pulse point on the inside of Draco’s wrist, circled it with his fingertips and pressed a reassuring kiss to Draco’s cheek.

“My good little prince.”

The praise did wonders. Not only did it renew the persistent flush that graced Draco’s cheeks, but it also made him blink and keen softly in delight.

Harry restrained his other hand and subjected it to the same treatment, teasing the pulse point on his wrist. For a change, he actually felt for a pulse. It was fast and erratic, and Harry smiled.

“Full of excitement and anticipation, my perfect little prince. You are truly wonderful and so perfect for me this afternoon.”

Draco shuddered, and Harry checked both cuffs to make sure that they were neither too tight nor too loose. Once he was confident that they were just perfect, he trailed the black wax words he’d dripped onto Draco’s back one last time, then kissed the back of his neck.

He shifted into a more comfortable position and summoned a rather extraordinary toy; he’d left lying out on the leather sofa on the far side of the room. It was a toy he’d used on Draco the very first time they’d tried out wax play and Draco had loved it. He’d asked for Harry to incorporate it in every wax play session and although Harry occasionally also used it on its own and in different settings, he loved watching the effects it had on Draco when he used it after an intense sensation play scene.

Straightening out some of the black deer hide tresses, he marvelled at their extreme softness and pliability. The toy was brand-new and had a very distinct aroma and texture somewhere in the range of moderately dry to slightly oily. Even though Harry had never used a deer hide flogger before, he knew that this one would be velvety smooth when dragged across the skin and getting to his feet, he towered above Draco. He moved into a suitable position with his feet placed on either side of Draco’s calves and reaching up, he grasped one of the iron bars at the top of the bed, ensuring that he had a steady hold.

Harry effortlessly slipped his wielding hand through the flogger’s wrist strap, adjusted his grip on the handle and relaxed.

“Ready, my love?” he asked.

Draco took a moment to respond.

He buried his head in his outstretched arms and hummed softly.

“Yes, Sir.”

He knew what was coming, but that didn’t seem to dampen his excitement in any way and smiling, Harry allowed himself one last longing look at the beautiful words he’d, in a manner of speaking, etched into Draco’s skin. He then slowly dragged the tips of the flogger’s tresses across Draco’s skin, teasing his back and buttocks, as well as his thighs.

Draco moaned and squirmed slightly.

Harry watched him tug at his restraints and decided to take his sweet time, wanting to gradually build up the momentum and drive Draco wanton as he impatiently waited for him to land the first blow.

A part of Harry wanted to see whether he could seduce Draco into begging for it, and he used every single trick he knew to try and make that happen. He taunted Draco’s arms, teased the tresses over his shoulders, his back, his firm arse and his perfect thighs. Draco was fit and in excellent shape, and not even a bout of the flu had managed to change that. His metabolism was stronger than his sweet tooth, although Harry suspected that Draco’s magical core had something to do with it.

Draco’s body was a beautifully carved work of art, chiselled out of the finest, most precious white marble one could find, and Harry was hopelessly in love with every single inch of it. Draco had muscles in all the right places, and they repeatedly flexed as Harry teased him with unrestrained abandon. Yes, he was slim, but not unhealthily so. Draco’s appetite for superb food was unrivalled and even Harry, with his unfettered love for treacle tart, couldn’t match the pure joy in Draco’s eyes whenever he enjoyed an excellent meal.

Harry smiled to himself.

He dragged the tresses over Draco’s back one last time, then stopped adjusted his grip on the iron bar above him. He shifted ever so slightly, and then simply waited.

Several moments of silence past, then Draco gracefully moved but did not change position. He gave his restraints a light tug, then turned his head sideways.

“Sir.”

He whispered the word, and Harry grinned wickedly.

“Yes, my little prince?”

“Why did you stop?”

Harry chuckled.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

Draco sighed softly.

“Please don’t stop, Sir,” he pleaded.

His voice was a breathless whisper.

It was music to Harry’s ears.

“Don’t stop what, my little prince?” Harry teased.

“Don’t stop with the flogger, please, Sir, it feels so good.”

Harry let a rumble of soft, warm laughter escape through a small gap between his lips.

“You like it that much, don’t you, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If you want more, show me what a good boy you can be.”

Draco mewled.

“Please give me more, Sir, please. I want you to flog me, please.”

“Delectable. I love it when you beg me, my sweet little prince. One more time, my gorgeous boy.”

“Please, Sir, please. I’ve been so good, please.”

“You’ve been perfect for me, my love.”

Harry smiled.

Without warning, he landed the first blow.

Unlike the spanking, he’d given Draco at the very start of their scene, this smack was much softer and a lot more sensual. With the spanking, he’d gradually built up the momentum until Draco’s arse cheeks had been flaming red and he’d whimpered and moaned and squirmed while naked and stretched out over Harry’s thighs. With the flogger, Harry intended to keep things soft, tender, playful.

He landed another blow, and a few bits of wax flew off Draco’s skin.

Draco let out a soft whimper and arched his back, then let it dip low.

“_Ngh_, thank you, Sir, thank you.”

Harry’s stomach flipped upside down, and his heart skipped several beats.

He loved it when Draco thanked him, even more so when he did so without having been asked to do so.

“Good boy. Sweet boy, precious boy. You are perfect, you are my perfect little prince.”

Harry let a series of blows rain all over Draco’s back, arse, and thighs. Each blow peeled more of the wax off Draco’s skin and send it flying into all four directions.

Pausing for a few seconds, Harry caressed Draco’s marked skin with the tresses and listened to his laboured breathing as he panted, writhed and arched his back. He tugged on his restraints, twisted his head and pressed his open mouth against the inside of his upper arm, muffling a particularly loud groan.

Harry smiled.

“Let it all out, my little prince, let me hear all your gorgeous sounds.”

He encouraged Draco to verbally express his enjoyment and settled for the second round of sensual flogging, removing almost all the leftover bits of wax. Draco’s skin was red, marked with a variety of marks that ranged from the redness the sting of the wax had left behind to Harry’s cheeky bite marks and several pronounced love bites.

Pleased with the outcome of the flogging session, Harry let go of the iron bar and kneeling on the bed, he put the flogger away and ran both hands over Draco’s body, claiming it and massaging it.

Draco moaned and gasped whenever Harry found a highly susceptible spot. He removed a few tiny pieces of wax, teased Draco’s arms, and sides, then let his fingers travel to Draco’s nipples. He’d clamped them earlier, with small stunning snake-shaped silver clamps, he’d commissioned a few months ago, and as he brushed his fingers over Draco’s pert nipples, Draco hissed.

Harry had left the clamps quite loose, but because of the length of time, Draco had been wearing them, his usually already sensitive nipples were now hyper-responsive to the smallest of touches. Harry removed the clamps with the highest level of care and Draco whimpered softly.

Kissing his back tenderly, Harry played with Draco’s nipples, rubbing his fingertips over them and twirling them between his fingers. He pulled and twisted and Draco moaned.

“Such pretty sounds you make, my sweet little prince.”

Harry whispered the words into Draco’s neck, kissing the bite mark, he’d made earlier. He pulled on Draco’s nipples and applied gentle pressure.

“You’re truly magnificent, my little prince, and so good for me.”

Draco whined softly, like a kitten begging for a small offering of cream.

Harry chuckled softly.

“You’re beautiful, my little prince. Inside and out. Everything about you is special. I cherish you, all of you, and that will never change.”

Draco turned his head sideways, resting them on his arms, and Harry saw that the silk blindfold was slightly damp with the tears Draco had shed during the flogging. They’d been tears of joy, and the only way Draco knew how to elevate some of the incredible ecstasies, Harry had filled him with.

“Perfection, true perfection. My little prince, you are exceptional, truly.”

A soft sob escaped Draco’s slightly parted lips, and Harry moved one of his hands away from Draco’s nipples. He summoned a bottle of lube from the nightstand and somehow managed to flick the lid open and squirt some of it onto his hand without stopping to play with Draco’s left nipple. Coating most of his palm and his fingers with the slightly chilly and clear thick liquid, he closed his fingers around Draco’s erection and stroked it ever so lightly.

Draco moaned.

“Sir―”

Harry twisted his hand around Draco’s cock.

Draco swallowed whatever he’d been about to say and moaned out loud instead.

“Tell me, my little prince, does that feel good?”

Following the question, Harry smirked to himself. He pulled on Draco’s nipple, then moved his hand to give the other the same treatment and twisted his hand up and down the length of Draco’s cock, expertly stimulating it.

“_Ngh_, yes, Sir.”

Draco choked the words out, and Harry smiled.

“Tell me. Tell me, my little prince, how does it feel?”

“So good, Sir. _Ngh_, Sir, please, please don’t stop.”

Harry hummed against Draco’s warm skin.

“I won’t, my sweet boy, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to come.”

Draco wailed.

“No, Sir, please, please.”

“Nu-huh, my little prince. You can come when I say so, and that time is not now. I want you to show me how good you can be for me.”

Draco swallowed hard and whimpered.

“Harry, Sir, please, _ngh_, please, please, please.”

Harry shook his head and gave Draco’s nipple a rather cruel twist.

Draco yelped.

“No, my little prince. Feel free to keep begging for it though, I love hearing you beg your precious little heart out.”

Draco’s low whine sent a shudder jolting down Harry’s spine.

He stroked Draco’s cock slowly, teasingly, gradually twisting his hand around it, squeezing lightly, steadily increasing Draco’s desire to come.

“Sir, please, I’m going to come, please.”

Harry rubbed his fingertip over Draco’s nipple and hummed against Draco’s shoulder.

“Are you now, my love?” he asked, thoroughly amused.

Then, as if on cue, he let go of Draco’s cock, effectively ruining his approaching orgasm.

Draco wailed.

He shuddered and squirmed and rotated his hips.

“I thought you were going to come, my little prince,” Harry teased.

“_Ngh_, Sir, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me come, Sir.”

“Soon.”

Harry continued to edge Draco, repeatedly bringing him within seconds of exploding all over his hand only to deny him that final stroke or twist or stroke that would send him over the edge.

Draco’s begged and pleaded.

He panted and breathed hard, tugging on his restraints as though the action had the power to make even the slightest difference.

Harry did not restrain his devious side.

Instead, he unzipped his distressed light-blue jeans, and pulling his own achingly hard cock out, he coated it with plenty of lube, then teased Draco’s hole with the very tip.

“Please, Sir, please fuck me, please. Take me, please, I want to be yours.”

Harry smiled.

“You’re already mine, my little prince.”

He pushed his cock an inch or so past the tight ring of muscle, then pulled back and twisted Draco’s cock, then pulled at his nipple, torturing the hard nub expertly with his fingers. He made sure to pay attention to both of Draco’s nipples and while he teased his cock he also played with his balls, squeezing the heavy sac gently and rolling it around in the palm of his hand.

“Please, Sir. Please, Harry, please, please.”

“Mmm, your begging is delectable. It’s music to my ears, my sweet little prince.”

Draco whimpered.

Despite his own growing need, Harry continued to fuck Draco agonisingly slow. He edged his cock into him, lingered for a few moments, then withdrew and did it all over again. At the same time, he toyed with Draco’s thick, heavy cock, played with the dark-red head, and twisted his nipples, driving all of his nerve-endings wild all at once.

It took every ounce of his sanity for Harry to be able to restrain him and he lasted for the longest time but eventually, he caved, giving in to his own needs. He pushed his cock all the way into Draco’s tight channel and setting a slow pace, he lost himself in the feeling of fucking Draco.

His own body came alive, and an abundance of feelings flowed through him. The entire scene, Draco’s submission, and his constant begging had aroused Harry mentally, stimulating him to the point of no return. Now, the physical sensations drove him beyond wild, and soon enough he increased his pace, fucking Draco harder, claiming him over and over again.

Harry’s body was on fire, his cock burnt from the lack of attention, and his groin felt full and was desperate for release. Sparks spread from it into the rest of his body, igniting every fibre of it. He moaned into Draco’s shoulder and shuddered with the sheer effort it took him to draw things out at least a little bit.

He desperately needed to come. He wanted to fill Draco with his come and claim him as he did so and it didn’t take him long before he absolutely couldn’t resist the pull of his orgasm any longer. He thrust a few more times, then buried the entire length of cock deep inside of Draco and groaned. His orgasm exploded, taking over his senses and making it rather difficult to breathe.

Harry squeezed his eyes closed, inhaled deeply and smiled as Draco’s scent contributed to his headiness. He groaned into Draco’s damp skin, moaning loudly and pressing his lips to the soft flesh, he felt his orgasm break free as he filled Draco with streak after streak of hot white come.

Draco whimpered beneath him, flexed his inner muscles and milked him dry.

In response, Harry tugged on Draco’s cock, twisting his hand around it firmly and with intent.

Gone was his playfulness and his devious teasing.

All he wanted now was for Draco to follow him over the edge.

“Come for me, my little prince, come.”

He breathlessly huffed the words against Draco’s shoulder, and his little prince didn’t disappoint him.

He shuddered, completely gave in to the pleasurable feeling of Harry wanking him, and spilt his come all over Harry’s hand and the abandoned pillow beneath him. This time the muscles inside his tight channel contracted out of their own accord, and they sent a shiver of intense excitement through Harry.

He teased Draco’s nipples, intending to prolong his orgasm for a few seconds, then slowly pulled his rapidly softening cock out of Draco’s hole, but slipped two of his fingers inside and pressing against Draco’s prostate, he miraculously managed to entice it into surprising Draco with a powerful prostate orgasm that made him scream Harry’s name as the tiny walnut-sized nub inside him exploded, causing him to, in all likelihood, see stars.

Harry whipped his sticky hand on the bed, and even though he was floating in a post-orgasmic trance, he reached out and touched Draco’s leather restraints. He found the panic snap and the cuffs fell open.

Draco collapsed on the bed, unable to keep himself up any longer, and gathering up the last bit of his strength, Harry shifted, moved them into a very comfortable position and hugged Draco tightly to his chest. As he did so, he expertly removed Draco’s blindfold and ditched it somewhere on the bed.

* * *

* * *

Draco snuggled deeper into Harry’s embrace and his favourite fluffy midnight blue bathrobe. Harry had spelt it bigger so that he could drown in it and over the last year or so it had become a bit of a ritual for him to bury himself in Harry’s bathrobe while he recovered from an intense scene.

In response to his movement, Harry’s arms automatically tightened around him, pulling him that little bit closer. It was a silent offer to keep him safe and hidden away from the rest of the world.

Post-play, Draco wasn’t able to deal with the demands of the world and generally found the most uncomplicated things utterly overwhelming. They had the potential to send him into an anxious tailspin.

He needed several hours to recover, sometimes longer.

The intensity of their earlier scene had left him feeling drained. Post-orgasm, he’d been floating on cloud number nine, and still felt floaty now, but it had also exhausted him and the idea of having to make even the simplest of decisions terrified him.

Thankfully, Harry was more than happy to provide whatever aftercare he needed to help him find his balance. Draco loved him for it. Harry’s tender loving care filled his heart with so many emotions that he couldn’t help but feel a bit lost and perhaps even a bit weepy. He didn’t enjoy these sort of maudlin feelings, but since he had no control over them and denying their existence only resulted in him becoming more depressed, he’d come to terms with the reality of sub drop.

Harry always made sure to provide him with everything he needed and was genuinely attentive and present. He was right there with him, in the moment, always ready to give him exactly what he wanted and needed to feel better.

After their session, they’d napped for a while, then Harry had drawn him a relaxing bath and even gotten into the tub to hug him from behind and kiss him tenderly. He’d used an ultra-soft yellow sponge to gently wash him, and afterwards, Draco had napped a little more. He’d asked for Harry to cuddle him in the privacy of their bedroom and had fallen asleep within minutes of feeling Harry’s warm body curl around him.

Usually, Harry didn’t stay in bed with him for the whole time but left once he was fast asleep. This time, Harry had still been there, spooned around him. Draco had watched him for a while, then kissed him awake, and they’d shared a few lazy snogs before Harry had convinced him to join him downstairs.

Unwilling to get fully dressed, Draco had asked for Harry’s bathrobe and hiding in the oversized garment, he’d sat in the kitchen and watched Harry cook them dinner. When Harry had offered to feed him dessert, he’d jumped at the opportunity and indulged in a light chocolate mousse with vanilla sauce, Harry had made for him.

Draco twisted his head slightly and glanced up at Harry, who instantly stopped looking at the flickering television and focused his attention on him. Harry reached out to run his fingers through his hair and pushing into the touch, Draco closed his eyes and smiled.

“I had the best time, Harry,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you did, my love.”

Harry’s voice was husky, low, and warm, and opening his eyes again, Draco blinked a few times. The corners of his eyes prickled with tears, and he sighed.

“Everything alright, my love?”

Harry’s concern was clearly evident in his voice and swallowing past the big lump of emotions that had suddenly appeared in his throat, Draco nodded.

“Yes, just a bit off,” he confessed.

“That’s natural. It’ll pass. I promise.”

“I know, just―”

Draco trailed off and sighed.

Harry brought his hand up to caress his cheek, and his soft touch charmed a smile onto Draco’s face.

“Beautiful,” Harry murmured.

Draco hummed contentedly.

He was mostly happy and thoroughly satisfied. He just struggled to express that adequately at the moment.

“Cheek the pocket of your bathrobe.”

Furrowing his brows, Draco gave Harry a questioning look.

Harry chuckled.

“Just do it, Malfoy.”

“Bossy,” Draco grumbled.

Harry laughed.

“Always.”

Shaking his head slightly, Draco reached inside the large pocket of his fluffy midnight blue bathrobe. His fingers bumped against a square-shaped little box and pulling it out of his pocket, he pushed the lid open and dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“Chocolates,” he panted, trying his best to breathe through his nose.

“You slipped a box of pralines in here.”

Harry grinned.

“Of course.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Is that praise or criticism?”

Draco selected one of the five chocolates and popped it into his mouth, then hummed around it. He let the tender chocolate melt on his tongue, chewed the hazelnut inside, then swallowed everything.

“It has the potential to be both, right now it’s praise.”

Harry chuckled.

“Well, I’m glad. Also, that film sucks.”

“I concur.”

“Can we watch something else?”

“Please.”

“Thank you.”

While Harry summoned the remote from the coffee table, Draco devoured another piece of chocolate, then frowned.

“Those aren’t ordinary chocolates,” he said.

Harry paused mid-channel-hopping and looked at him.

“They are special aftercare chocolates.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

He felt a lot less anxious and more relaxed but knew for a fact that while chocolate always improved his moods, it wasn’t powerful enough to elevate the symptoms of sub drop. At least not that quickly.

“What did you lace them with?”

“Love.”

“And?”

“Electrolytes?”

Draco gave Harry a pointed look.

“Get to the good bit.”

Harry chuckled.

“Diluted Calming Draught.”

“I knew it. You’re drugging me.”

Harry grinned.

“If only I had sinister intentions that accusation would actually be true.”

Draco smiled, then popped the third piece of chocolate into his mouth.

“You always have sinister intentions, Potter.”

“Hm, you may have a point there.”

“You know, I do.”

Instead of continuing their playful banter, Draco felt two of Harry’s fingers underneath his chin and tipped his head up. Harry bent down and kissed him softly, plunging his tongue into his mouth and swiped some of the leftover chocolate.

“There, now I’m drugged too,” he said with a wide grin.

Draco huffed out a breath of air and a somewhat mocking laugh, then settled in Harry’s embrace and watched him zap through the different TV channels until they came across a silly romantic British comedy that soon had them both in stitches.

* * *

* * *


	10. Dinner In Notting Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure when exactly this idea popped into my head, but I'm oddly pleased with it and happy with the outcome.
> 
> Please do enjoy.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Harry looked up from his book and watched Draco set the oven timer. He straightened up, clasped and twisted his hands together, then stared out of the kitchen window, looking forlorn and thoroughly lost.

A minute or so past before Draco moved and when he did it was only to nervously pace the kitchen, as he muttered something entirely incomprehensible under his breath.

Harry shook his head.

He reached for his sterling silver snake-shaped bookmark and placing it between the pages, he gently snapped the book closed and put it down on the coffee table in front of him. He moved his legs off the sofa, and curling his toes into the soft carpet beneath his bare feet, he straightened up a little.

“Draco.”

He called out and whipping his head around, Draco abruptly stopped pacing the kitchen of his Notting Hill flat and stood perfectly still, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

“Yes.”

His voice sounded strained. He looked tense and nervous but forced a smile.

Harry knew that Draco was trying to trick him into believing that he had nothing to worry about, but he was doing an abysmal job at keeping his cool mask of indifference in place. Besides, Harry knew him too well to fall for that trick, and Draco’s inability to stop himself from clasping and twisting his hands together was a sure-fire giveaway that he wasn’t able to calm himself enough to appear unbothered.

“Come here, please.”

“M’kay.”

Draco nodded and taking off his apron, he placed it on the worktop, then left the spacious kitchen area and walked into the living room.

He paused a few steps short of the large white corner sofa and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans to stop himself from fiddling.

“Do you want coffee? Some tea? I think we bought biscuits. Or I can cut you up a few celery sticks. I made that hummus dip you like.”

Harry smiled.

“None of that, my love. Just come sit beside me, please.”

Draco hesitated.

“I―”

“Have you made the cream chowder with the leftover fish from the pie you just put in the oven?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

“It’s in the slow cooker.”

“Good. What about dessert?”

“The strawberry mousse is in the fridge, and so is the whipped cream.”

“Great, and I also saw you set the table earlier, so you don’t have to worry about that either. I assume we’ll be having white wine with the pie.”

Draco inclined his head and shuffled his feet in a manner that practically screamed anxious bag of nerves to Harry, but he refrained from pointing that out.

“It’s been in the fridge since yesterday. I’ll take it out when Roísín gets here.”

“Good boy. See, you’ve got a handle on all the important things. Now, come here, please.”

Harry repeated his request and touched the empty spot beside him quickly and gently with the flat of his hand, beckoning Draco to his side.

Over the past week, he’d offered his help several times and again this morning, but Draco had, quite pointedly so, kicked him out of the kitchen, telling him he had everything under control.

Knowing when it made sense to argue with Draco, and when it was better to stay out of his way, Harry had quietly busied himself with cleaning the flat from top to bottom, using both spells and ordinary Muggle methods. Once he’d finished putting the place in order, he’d settled on the sofa in the living room with some light reading, but had kept an eye on Draco lest he needed help after all.

Draco pulled his hands out of his pockets and moving over to the sofa, he sat down and staring at the floor in front of him, he let out a soft sigh.

Harry wordlessly took Draco’s hands into his own, and squeezing them lightly, he rubbed his thumbs over the back of Draco’s hands, then slowly edged them towards Draco’s wrists. They found Draco’s pulse points and pressing against the sensitive spots, he moved them around in relaxed and unrushed circle.

“Look at me, Draco.”

He kept his voice low and soft and injected a bit of silky persuasiveness into it, making it reasonably impossible for Draco to resist his words.

Draco lifted his head, turned it slowly, and focusing on him, he held his gaze for a few moments, then averted his eyes and looked down at their linked hands.

“Are you OK?”

Draco mutely shook his head.

“Do you want to cancel our dinner plans with Roísín?”

Draco shook his head again.

“What can I do to help?”

“I am― I just―”

Draco struggled to articulate himself properly and trailing off, he sighed.

Harry continued to circle the pulse points on the insides of his wrists. He could feel some of the tension leave Draco’s body but made no attempt to stop the familiar and comforting gesture.

“Do you need me to help you get into the zone before Roísín gets here?”

For a moment, Draco didn’t react, then he slowly lifted his head.

Harry instantly lost himself in those vibrantly bright silvery-grey eyes and smiled warmly, hoping to encourage Draco into telling him what he already knew he needed.

“Yes, please, Sir.”

Harry lifted one hand and gently combed it through Draco’s soft blond hair.

“Thank you for telling me what you need.”

Draco hummed softly.

His cheeks picked a little and Harry caressed them with his fingertips.

“Go upstairs, my little prince. Wash your hands, then splash your face with a bit of warm water and dry it. If you need the loo, do that too, then wait for me by the left side of the bed with your back to the window. I’ll leave the position up to you, but I trust you know which one I’d prefer. Remember, the choice is yours entirely, and I will appreciate whichever position you’re most comfortable in. Should adjustments be necessary we can always make those later.”

Draco inclined his head slightly.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy. I’ll come up in a few minutes, and we’ll talk. Go now.”

Harry stopped petting Draco and withdrawing his hands, he sat back on the sofa, throwing one leg over the other as he did so. He watched Draco inhale slowly and deeply, then he got to his feet and walked around the sofa and towards the staircase that led up into his old bedroom.

The last time they’d spent a night here had been before Harry had asked Draco to move in with him, but since Draco loved Notting Hill, he hadn’t sold it, and Harry didn’t want him to. When Draco had asked him for a reason, the flat’s beautiful location hadn’t been the first thing that had come to Harry’s mind. Instead, he’d cited all the firsts, recounting them one by one. Their first kiss, their first home-cooked meal, the first time they’d danced together, the first time they’d slept together, the first time they’d talked about kink, the first time Draco had submitted to him, their first big argument.

It all seemed so long ago, yet as he sat there on the sofa and allowed his thoughts to drift back to their first few memories as a couple, Harry’s heart swelled in his chest. He felt proud, content, and grateful for what they’d achieved in every aspect of their lives, both personal and professional.

As far as relationships were concerned, two years wasn’t an exceptionally long time, but Harry wasn’t overly concerned by the amount of time that had passed. What he cared about were the things they’d accomplished and what they had to show for. They’d put their differences behind and become friends, lovers, partners, equals, and could always rely on each other.

Theirs was a healthy relationship with a robust foundation made up of everything they considered vital ― mutual respect, understanding, honesty, love, intimacy, communication, understanding, trust and a sense of playfulness. Harry liked to think that they’d managed to build something that was bound to stand the test of time and last through the ages. He wanted it to, more than anything.

Somehow, they’d succeeded in creating a union where Harry’s strong preference for kink and Draco’s need to inject a healthy dose of vanilla into their lives intertwined perfectly. On top of that, they felt at home in both the Muggle world and the Wizarding World, and it never felt like they had to choose one over the other. They sometimes did, mostly unconsciously, but not because they were trying to avoid things that needed to be dealt with.

Harry smiled to himself.

His and Draco’s achievements filled him with a sense of pride. The kind that made his heart grow bigger and beat faster and woke the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, enticing them to flutter about madly until he could barely stand the excitement of it all any longer.

Conscious of the time, Harry decided to postpone revelling in the memories of the milestones of his and Draco’s relationship. Instead, he got to his feet and stretched luxuriously, raising his arms far above his head and thoroughly loosening his muscles.

He glanced at his wristwatch and gauging the time, he estimated that a little over five minutes had passed, and since he didn’t want to leave Draco any longer, he made his way upstairs. The carpet that covered the stairs which led up to Draco’s old bedroom was soft beneath his feet and for a few moments, Harry remembered that time when Draco had surprised him with silken ties, asking him to spice things between them up as they gradually delved into the world of kink, slowly incorporating the lifestyle and a more pronounced D/s dynamic into their relationship.

Compared to the things they did now and the level of submission Draco was comfortable with, it felt like those silken ties had been nothing more but vanilla with a bit of zest. Still, Harry cherished the memory and didn’t regret taking things slow. Draco had needed those baby steps. It had helped him to acclimatise and discover whether being submissive was for him or whether he just enjoyed being a bit adventurous in bed.

Harry reached the top of the stairs.

He found the door to Draco’s old bedroom open and leaning against the doorframe, he smiled fondly at the sight that presented itself to him.

Draco was kneeling by the bed with his head submissively lowered, and his eyes focused on the floor. There was a small gap between his thighs, big enough for Harry to comfortably place his hand in-between, and he was sitting back on his haunches. Draco’s hands were resting on his legs, just above his knees, with his palms facing upward and his fingers pointing towards the inside of his legs.

“Merlin! You’re stunningly beautiful, my little prince,” Harry exclaimed, filling the room with sweet words of praise.

Draco shifted ever so slightly but didn’t lift his head or disrupt his pose in any other way.

He took a moment to fully appreciate Draco’s pose, then gently pushed himself away from the doorframe and crossing the room, he walked up to Draco and sat down on the bed.

Reaching out, Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“Thank you, my little prince, this is more than I hoped for. You truly are my good boy.”

“Sir.”

Draco’s voice was soft and warm.

It had lost some of its tension and strain and resonated around the room.

Harry smiled.

“My precious, perfect little prince, you are a dream come true.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco mewled softly, unable to resist the effects Harry’s praise was having on him.

Harry placed two fingers under Draco’s chin and gently lifted his head, meeting his gaze with calm, steady eyes.

“Thank you, my little prince. I love it when you decide to kneel for me.”

“For you, always, Sir,” Draco whispered.

He blinked, and Harry leant in and pressing his lips against Draco’s, he kissed him softly to show his appreciation.

“You’re perfect, my little prince.”

Draco blinked, and his cheeks pinked a little.

Harry smiled.

“Tell me, how are you feeling now, my little prince?”

Draco considered the question for a moment, then answered.

“Better, Sir.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear, sweet boy.”

Draco hummed in response but didn’t speak.

“Now, my little prince, you’ve invited Roísín over for dinner to show how the D/s dynamic of our relationship looks like in the privacy of our own home. I commend you for that, but I understand that you’re nervous about it.”

Draco nodded.

“Can you please tell me what makes you anxious? You’ve known Roísín for a couple of months now, and you’ve met her for coffee, and at several munches, she isn’t a stranger, my love.”

Harry smiled encouragingly.

He did not let go of Draco’s chin, wanting him to look him in the eye while he told him what was weighing on his mind.

Draco sighed softly.

“I’m afraid I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, Sir.”

“How so?” Harry asked.

He knew that Draco’s worries were mostly nonsense but telling him that and invalidating his concerns wasn’t how Harry wanted to handle this situation. So far, Draco had always felt that he was able to turn to him for help, and that was a critical feature of their relationship Harry didn’t want to jeopardise. He cherished Draco’s willingness to be open and honest with him. Around others, Draco always guarded a small part of himself. Even when he was at ease and around people, he was familiar with, he didn’t entirely drop his guard.

His mother was, of course, the exception. With her, Draco was just as open and honest as he was with Harry, although perhaps not to the same degree and with all aspects of his life, for obvious reasons.

Even around his ex-boyfriend Malcolm, Charlie, Liam, Caleb and Stefan, Draco kept a small part of himself hidden. It wasn’t easily discernible or necessarily especially evident, but Harry could tell.

In front of him, Draco never hid anything. It was all there for the taking. There was no barrier, no guard.

“It’s just―”

Draco started to speak but faltered and trailed off.

“Go on,” Harry encouraged him.

“Tell me, my little prince, I want to know.”

Draco sighed.

“Submitting to you is personal and private. The collar at the club is one thing, calling you _Sir_ in front of friends is something else altogether.”

Harry smiled.

“You don’t need to call me Sir, my little prince. We have discussed this. If you’re more comfortable calling me Harry while Roísín is around then that’s what we’ll settle one, and it won’t diminish your submission to me in the slightest. Also, if you’re uncomfortable showing Roísín a more intimate aspect of your submission, we needn’t do it at all. Roísín might be a novice, but she’s a smart girl.”

Draco had met Roísín at one of Caleb’s munches a couple months ago. They’d been in the middle of a conversation when she’d walked into the function room, looking lost and very ill at ease. Harry still wasn’t quite sure what had made Draco abandon their playful banter, but he’d gotten up, politely excused himself and walked over to Roísín to make her feel welcome. Both, he and Caleb, had watched him interact with her closely and discreetly admired Draco’s efforts to make a complete newcomer feel welcome.

Roísín was younger than him and slightly shorter too. She was stunningly beautiful, with long dark-brown wavy hair and a smile that melted hearts. She was fiercely passionate about discovering her kinkier side, ridiculously smart and exceptionally well-read. Her family hailed from Ireland, but she’d spend most of her teenage and adult years in London. As such, she had a strange sort of accent. At times she sounded like she’d received elocution lessons to smooth out her strong Irish accent, and at other times she spoke like your typical Irish lass from Dublin’s northside.

Draco had taken great care to introduce Roísín to a few key people at the munch and had spent well over two hours chatting to her, just getting to know her, and insisted that she come to another munch to meet more people. Following their first meeting and before their second meeting they’d kept in touch through Muggle technology, and Draco had offered up a wide variety of reading material.

For the first three months, they’d met exclusively at munches, then Roísín had asked whether it might be appropriate for them to meet at her favourite coffee shop. Draco had turned to him for advice then, and Harry still fondly remembered giving him the green light, teasingly instructing him to enjoy himself.

“I don’t know enough to be a mentor, Sir, this is madness.”

Harry chuckled.

“Now that actually is nonsense, my little prince. We both know that you know a great deal about the lifestyle. You’ve done your research, and you still do, and I am absolutely certain that Roísín will agree with me there. Thanks to you, she’s been able to gradually get in touch with her kinkier side, learn about her preferences and feel safe. Trust me, my love, she will never forget the gift you’ve given her. Besides, we weren’t talking about that, we were talking about you showing your submissive side in front of Roísín.”

Draco huffed out a breath of air.

“I can’t get away with anything with you, can I now, Sir?”

Harry laughed.

He leant in and placed a soft kiss on Draco’s lips, then shook his head.

“No, my sweet boy. Know that when I let you get away with something, it’s always my choice and never a lack of attention.”

Draco sighed.

“I want to show her, I really do. I just think I’m not in the right frame of mind, Sir.”

“Well, if you want, I can help with that, my little prince.”

Draco dithered for a second, then inclined his head.

“Please, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“With pleasure, my little prince.”

He took a moment to simply appreciate Draco kneeling in front of him, and while he did, he thought of several ways to push Draco into a more submissive mindset. In his opinion, Draco was already halfway there, but since he’d yet to realise that about himself, Harry decided that he needed a bit more assertiveness. He needed to feel that Harry was in control and that he held the reins in his hands.

“I want you to put your hands behind your back, my little prince. Cross them at the wrists and keep them there. Will you do that for me? Will you be my good boy and show me that you can follow the rules?”

A mild shiver surged through Draco, and he mewled softly.

He slowly moved his hands and placed them behind his back.

“Sir.”

“Mmm, good boy. That’s perfect. Well done. Now, close your eyes, my little prince.”

Draco hesitated for less than a few seconds, then his eyes fell closed. He dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and gnawed at it, but shuddered when Harry clicked his tongue and used his thumb to stop him from doing that.

In one fluid gesture, Harry also slipped the digit into Draco’s mouth and pressed down on his tongue.

“Feel that, my little prince?”

Draco hummed and nodded.

Harry smiled and caressed his cheek, then leant in and pressed his lips to Draco’s ear.

“That’s me taking control. Did you notice how easy that was? How willingly you submitted to me and gave up your words for me? You’re such a good boy yet sometimes you don’t even realise it. You hide behind that mask of sass, but we both know there’s only one thing on your mind and that’s submitting to me, isn’t that so, my sweet little prince?”

Draco keened around his thumb and swallowed hard.

“It thrills you, doesn’t it, my little prince? Handing over the reins to me, giving me the power to control you, to make decisions for you, it’s intoxicating and oh so addictive, isn’t it, my love?”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco’s response was muffled, and even though it wasn’t really a word, Harry knew exactly what it meant. Draco agreed with him; everything he’d just said was correct.

Applying a bit more pressure to Draco’s tongue, Harry combed his fingers through Draco’s hair, then grabbed a fistful of it. He didn’t pull it or hurt Draco in any way, shape, or form, but the fact that he’d gagged Draco and that his hand was right there in his hair, controlling him, had the desired effect.

He nibbled on Draco’s earlobe, bit it gently, then chuckled.

“I love this. When you’re pliable and soft around the edges and when you can’t help yourself but give in to me. When you melt at my words and crave to surrender to me so badly that it governs all your other thoughts, your mind, and your soul. What a gift, what an honour. Do you even know how absolutely precious you are, my little prince? Do I tell you often enough? You are my good boy, my sweet little prince, my perfect angel.”

Draco mewled.

His eyelids fluttered but he never once opened them.

Harry decided to push him a little bit further.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, my little prince? Mine to own, mine to play with, mine to hurt, mine to love, mine, mine, mine. All mine. Always mine.”

He withdrew his thumb from Draco’s mouth, and when he swayed a little, he steadied him.

A few seconds past, then Draco slowly opened his eyes.

“Yours, Sir. Take all of me, Sir, it’s yours to do as you please.”

Harry smiled and caressed Draco’s flushed cheek softly.

He reached out, and pulling Draco’s grey wild leather collar from underneath the pillow closest to him, he let his finger slip through the O-ring at the front and dangled it in front of Draco.

“Show me, my little prince. Show me that you’re mine.”

Draco whimpered softly and lowered his head submissively.

“I want to be yours, Sir, collar me yours, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“Gladly, my sweet little prince.”

He expertly fastened the collar around Draco’s neck, and sealed it with a murmured incantation, feeling Draco shudder at the wisp of magic that washed over him. He gave the O-ring a tiny tug, then kissed Draco, starting slow, then gradually increasing the depth and intensity of the kiss.

The kiss lasted for several minutes, and when Harry finally, but grudgingly, broke it, he had to take a deep breath to appease his burning lungs.

Draco was breathless and gulped down as much air as he possibly could.

Harry watched him for a few moments, then guided his head, adjusting Draco’s position so that his head was in his lap.

Draco closed his eyes and exhaled softly, and Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“That’s it, my beautiful boy. Stay like this. Stay with Sir.”

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you looking forward to the actual dinner?


	11. That Fish Pie! (And Other Mysteries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Harry says a lot of lifestyle-specific things, that, I think, don't need a lot of additional explanation from me, because he's being very clear about it all; however, if you'd like more information, I'm always willing to offer info, just ask away. What I can answer I will, if I can’t ill endeavour to find some information for you.
> 
> You can find a link for some extra-reading in the footnotes.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Draco opened the fridge and reaching inside, he retrieved another bottle of chenin blanc from the Loire Valley of France’s Anjou region. It was his favourite white wine to serve and enjoy with a classic British fish pie. While the chenin blanc wasn’t the most expensive or most exquisite wine one could serve with fish pie, it had a certain kind of tension which meant that it offered up a variety of exciting layers. Draco liked to compare the wine’s versatility to white mist rolling across a landscape, constantly changing the view.

Chenin blanc was a sweet inhalation of wild honey, poached quince, the smell of an orchard in autumn, winter leaves, and wet wool. In other words, it was richly aromatic and offered a wide range of flavours ― a wine for all seasons and all occasions.

Combined with succulent pieces of freshly-baked fish folded into creamy blankets of white sauce and crispy-topped, buttery mash, chenin blanc was the kind of wine that turned fish pie into a dish one might order at a Michelin three-star restaurant; an exceptional meal worth a special journey. According to Harry, it wasn’t the wine that made the fish pie special, but all the effort Draco had put into getting everything just right. He’d prepared everything from scratch, refusing to use anything that had been made in advance. To a certain extent, it had stopped him from fretting about tonight’s dinner. Although, the moment he’d placed the pie inside the oven, all that had changed and he’d come very close to sinking into a state of complete hysteria.

Thankfully Harry had seen the signs and stepped in before panic had had the chance to sink in properly.

Draco smiled at the memory, and reaching for the corkscrew, he expertly opened the bottle of wine and headed back into the living room.

While rounding the sofa, his eyes locked with Harry’s and he paused for a second.

Harry’s warm smile sent a shiver of excitement down his spine and feeling his cheeks heat a little, he took a deep breath in an attempt to try and calm himself.

So far, the evening had been a complete success. Roísín had arrived a few minutes before dinner was ready and after formally introducing her to Harry, they’d settled around the dining table and engaged in a bit of small talk. Since Roísín felt a bit shy in Harry’s presence, Draco had let the conversation to try and distract her a little.

During dinner, Roísín had relaxed a bit more, and Draco credited the wine for that. Harry disagreed, he thought the food was to blame and had praised him to the skies for his culinary skills. Draco had barely managed to hide his blush, and his collar had been the only thing that had stopped him from kicking Harry’s shin under the table.

Dessert had thoroughly won Roísín over, and she’d confessed to having a sweet tooth, although Draco had already known that. Harry’s throwaway comment about finally understanding why the two of them got on so well had had her in stitches, and the ice had been broken. Roísín was still a bit shy about talking to Harry, but she tried her best to politely answer his questions and ask some of her own, although, so far, all of their conversations had been pretty vanilla.

Shaking his temporary paralysis off, Draco moved closer to the coffee table and reaching for Harry’s empty wine glass, he lifted it up and refilled it, then carefully set it back down on the elegant Slytherin-green coaster.

“Sir.”

Harry smiled softly.

“Thank you, pet.”

“My pleasure, Sir.”

Draco momentarily closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, then drew in a deep breath. While he preferred it when Harry called him his _little prince_, he didn’t want him to use that name around Roísín ― it felt a touch too intimate, and since Draco didn’t think he’d be able to remain unaffected, they’d settled on _pet_. It was a term of endearment Harry generally only used when they indulged in a bit of pet play, which happened once in a blue moon.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him, silently asking whether he was OK, but Draco brushed his concerns off with a casual wave of his hand and busied himself with refilling Roísín’s empty glass and finally his own.

He placed the now empty bottle of wine in the centre of the table and with his own glass in hand, he settled on the plush white shaggy rug in front of the sofa, then shuffled slightly until he could feel Harry’s right leg press against his side. Harry moved his left foot, wedged it underneath his thigh, and tilting his head back, Draco looked up and beamed at him.

“Welcome back, pet,” Harry whispered.

His emerald-green eyes were full to the brim with warmth and love, and because Draco didn’t know how to handle to his heart’s response to seeing those emotions, he distracted himself with handing Harry his wine.

“Here you are, Sir,” he said.

His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Thank you, pet.”

Harry took the glass from him, and when their fingers brushed together, Draco shuddered a little. He hastily averted his eyes, focused his attention on the wine in his own glass, and slowly bringing it up to his lips, he took a small sip, hoping it might calm his nerves.

He felt Harry’s free hand settle on his shoulder and his fingertips tease along the side of his neck.

A small tremor surged through him in response to Harry’s innocent touch, and he was immensely grateful when Roísín cleared her throat and chose precisely that moment to speak up.

“I don’t know if me saying this is putting my foot in my mouth, but I really like your dynamic, the way you act around each other. It’s a constant push and pull. Like, I’m not trying to be poetic, or anything but watching you feels a bit like doing a puzzle and finding two matching pieces. They slot together perfectly, and so do you.”

Roísín’s words filled Draco with a rush of warmth and smiling into his wine glass, he slowly tilted it and took another small sip, then turned his head sideways to look at Roísín. She’d sat down in the centre of the sofa’s other half, with her legs comfortably curled up underneath her, and was casually playing with her wine glass, trying to get light to give the amber liquid a sort of sparkling effect.

“Thank you, Roísín. That’s a lovely thing to say, and you’re not putting your foot in your mouth at all, don’t worry about it. I appreciate honesty of any kind.”

Harry spoke up before Draco could and in a way, he appreciated Harry taking the initiative, not because he was at a loss for words but because he really wanted Roísín to spend more time talking to Harry. So far, and whenever they’d met at a munch or Harry had picked him up at her local coffee shop, she’d been somewhat hesitant to talk to him.

Draco had tried telling her that Dom(me)s were ordinary people and that there was nothing special about them, but he also hadn’t pushed her past her comfort zone. If she needed and wanted time to plug up the courage to have a full conversation with a Dom(me), so be it. Two years ago, Harry had given him all the time in the world and had patiently answered any and all of his questions, so now that Roísín had picked him to help her understand the lifestyle, he wanted her to have the same experience.

“Even if it’s critique?”

Roísín’s next question surprised Draco a little, and letting his head fall back, he looked up at Harry, who briefly looked down at him, caressed the side of his neck with his fingertips, and then focused his attention back on Roísín.

He nodded.

“Yes, Roísín, even if it’s a critique. While it mightn’t necessarily be pleasant to hear, it’s an opportunity for self-improvement. Now, I won’t stand for mindless abuse or unfounded accusations, but I’ll happily listen to another person’s criticism, though I expect detailed explanations and examples. A simple ‘_I don’t like this about you_’ won’t do, I’m afraid.”

Roísín hesitated for a few moments, then inclined her head in silent understanding.

“Uhm, so, can I ask how you’d respond to Draco telling you he’s unhappy with something you did or didn’t like something you said?”

Harry smiled.

“You can ask, Roísín, and I shall answer, although I’m pretty sure Draco could answer that question as well, couldn’t you, pet.”

Harry looked down at him again, and after holding his gaze for a moment or two, Draco nodded.

“I believe I could, Sir, however, please, go ahead,” he said.

Harry inclined his head.

“Very well.”

He took a sip of his wine, then balanced it carefully on his high, keeping his fingers wrapped around the glasses’ stem.

“If I handle something in a way that displeases Draco and he comes to me wanting to talk about it, I’ll arrange some time for us to have that conversation, undisturbed. I’ll hear him out, and ask him how he’d prefer me to handle the situation. Depending on his suggestions, I’ll either accept his proposal, or I’ll make an offer of my own; however, I’m confident that we’d eventually be able to agree on something that suits us both.”

“You wouldn’t just outright reject the critique then?”

Harry shook his head.

“While that would be the easiest way to avoid confrontation, it doesn’t solve anything, does it now? I want Draco to feel like he can talk to me about anything. With me, he doesn’t need to limit himself to only telling me about the good stuff, because I want to know it all. There’s a time to thrive on praise, and there’s a time to be responsible and get your act together.”

“Do you tell Harry everything then, Draco?”

Draco straightened up a little and looking at Roísín, he smiled, then nodded.

“Yes. Eventually, I do. Sometimes I need a bit of time to think things through, but when I’m ready to talk, we sit down and have an honest conversation.”

Roísín hummed softly, sipped on her wine, then smiled.

“Alright, I’m going to be cheeky and go off-topic. Harry, if he tells you anything, I beg you, give me the recipe for that fish pie.”

Smirking, Draco pressed his lips together to suppress a snort.

Harry, on the other hand, laughed out loud.

“I’m afraid Draco doesn’t share recipes; he guards them like precious gems. I’m not even allowed to look over his shoulder.”

Draco mutely grinned into his wine and nodded in affirmation.

Roísín pulled a face.

“Can’t you order him to?” she asked.

“I guess I could, but I’m afraid that’s not how it works.”

“Could you like, perhaps make an exception?”

Draco tilted his head back again just in time to catch Harry’s wicked grin.

“I could try, but I can guarantee you, he’ll tell me to fuck off.”

“Would he dare, though?”

Harry chuckled.

“Pet, you answer that one.”

Draco laughed.

“Darling, I’ve told him where to shove it more times than I care to remember.”

“I remember,” Harry said.

He wore a dirty smirk and Draco rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t referring to those times when saying it actually got me into trouble, Sir.”

Harry continued to grin.

He teased the side of his neck with his fingertips, and Draco shuddered a little.

“In that case, I probably don’t remember.”

Feeling a bit bold, Draco decided to be a bit sassy.

“Getting old, Sir?”

Harry gave him a pointed look.

“Thin ice,” he simply said.

Draco smiled, and taking a sip from his wine, he remained quiet. He felt Harry his fingers tenderly thread through the hairs at the back of his head and sighing softly, he pushed into the touch, knowing that this was Harry’s way of praising him for giving him just the right amount of sass without taking it too far while he wore Harry’s collar.

Harry’s hand rested on the back of his collar, and Draco felt a tingle of magic shoot through him. He shivered and humming softly, he indulged in the feeling of unadulterated happiness that flowed through him, filling him with a strange sense of giddiness.

After Harry had stopped him from panicking for the sake of panicking, giving Roísín a peek into Harry’s and his dynamic had been surprisingly easy. While Draco still felt that he was allowing Roísín to witness something incredibly intimate, he no longer worried about it but wholeheartedly embraced it, and he recalled Harry’s earlier words to him.

_Showing people who you are, who we are, doesn’t make you weak, my little prince. Quite on the contrary; it makes you strong. Being confident in one’s own skin is the sexiest thing there is, my love, and it honestly turns me on._

Knowing that just sitting at Harry’s feet, and openly showing his submission to him in front of their dinner guest, turned Harry on, thrilled Draco beyond imagination. He could barely contain the myriad of emotions whirling around the centre of his chest, making his heart beat faster.

“Dear Lord, save me, Draco, love, you have this absolutely adorable loved-up smile on your face right now. It’s too much, you’re melting me.”

Draco chuckled.

He lifted his head and looking at Roísín, he winked.

“I told you he’s perfect,” he said with a shrug.

“I believe you now.”

“Now, now, you two, stop praising me, you’ll make me blush if you keep at it.”

Draco looked back up at Harry, held his gaze for several seconds, then rolled his eyes.

“As if you’d ever blush, Potter,” he said with an expression of scornful derision.

Harry gave him a pointed look and his fingers, which were still resting at the back of his neck, moved ever so slightly.

A strange sort of jolt, one that almost felt like a surge of an electric current, zapped down Draco’s spine. Pressing his lips tightly together, he tried his best to suppress his sudden desire to yelp. He glared at Harry, who merely shrugged his shoulders, and sipped his wine with an utterly nonchalant expression and as though he hadn’t just wandlessly cast a mild stinging hex in the presence of a Muggle.

For a moment, Draco couldn’t quite decide whether getting a sore arse later tonight was worth the sassy remark that was on the tip of his tongue, but Roísín’s question stopped him from having to contemplate the matter any further.

“I wonder, could I perhaps ask something about submissive training?”

“You can ask about anything, Roísín,” Harry said.

“What would you like to know?”

Roísín hesitated for a moment or two, and a slight flush appeared on her cheeks. Draco wasn’t entirely sure whether that was because she was genuinely embarrassed or because the wine was starting to have a bit of effect on her.

“Erm, uhm, I just wondered, well, how long does it take to train a submissive?”

Harry’s first reaction was to cough, then he took a deep breath and a rather large sip from his wine.

Draco frowned at him, but Harry shook his head and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“I’m not sure how much you want to hear about this, Roísín, but I actually have a few things to say. To me, training sounds like something you’d do to a dog, and although I don’t mind the use of the phrase, I always make sure to explain how I understand it. Let me endeavour to offer you the same courtesy, Roísín. First of all, training implies there are techniques and skills to be attained, which quite frankly isn’t true. If you’re submissive, then you are submissive. There is nothing to be learnt that can make you a submissive if you are not. Submission is mostly about how you react to dominance.

“Dominance in another person will call out to you ― and you will respond in a way that comes naturally. It’s not something that can be learnt, or faked ― it can be beaten into a person via abuse, or endured through sheer self-control, but not learnt. Submission will either come naturally ― because it makes you happy, it makes you wet, it excites the hell out of you ― or it won't. When a Dominant grabs you by the hair, you will fall to your knees because it seems the natural thing to do, because usually you’ve dreamt and fantasised about this for years, and because you want very badly to be on your knees with someone’s fist wrapped around a hank of your hair.”

Draco noticed the way Harry paused for a moment, giving Roísín the opportunity for his words to sink in and for her to process them so that she might respond accordingly.

She remained silent for one or two minutes, then slowly nodded.

“So, uhm, are you saying that there’s no such thing as training?”

Harry smiled.

“In a way, I am saying just that, aren’t I? Let me clarify. There’s mentorship, there’s showing someone the ropes, helping them discover their submissive side and what kinks they might have. You can compare that to you and Draco meeting up for coffee and talking about the lifestyle. Then there’s mentorship between Dominants. You see, no one should just grab up a flogger, a coil of rope, or a pair of nipple clips, and start using them on someone without taking some time to learn how to use those things properly, don’t you think?”

Roísín nodded.

“Well, I’ve never really done anything kinky, unless, of course, you consider me allowing my boyfriend to tie me to the bed during sex kinky―”

Harry chuckled.

“Hey, if you thought that was kinky, then it was kinky. To me, it's being a bit adventurous in a vanilla relationship, but that’s my own personal opinion, and I’m not going to invalidate yours. That would be rude of me.”

Roísín smiled, then took another sip of her wine, and caught a stray drop of wine that threatened to roll down her chin with the tip of her tongue.

“Like I said, I’ve never done anything super-kinky, but I don’t think I’d feel comfortable if my Dominant partner didn’t know how to use restraints or an impact toy properly.”

“A Dominant should always learn the basics, true, but there’s no need for you to outright dismiss a somewhat inexperienced Dom. As long as they are open and honest about their inexperience and are willing to learn, I’d say go for it. Besides, the start of any new relationship, especially a kinky one, will always be filled with two people trying to get used to each other and learning how to behave around each other.”

“Well, can you teach any of that behaviour? I’m trying not to use the word train because you don’t like it, so I hope ‘_teach_’ is a better one.”

“There’s a myriad of things a Dominant can teach a submissive. There’s also a near endless list of things a submissive can show a Dominant, Roísín. Like I said, you cannot learn to be submissive, it’s either something you enjoy, or it isn’t. Now, learning from each other is, again, a type of mentorship. Keep in mind that each Dominant has different preferences, so there’s no one-size-fits-all sort of training. However, let’s say you are prone to panic attacks while bound in ropes, we could certainly work on that if that’s something you wanted. There would be nothing sexual about it, just a guy who’s good with ropes teaching a girl who likes to be in them how to handle being restrained better.

“The same goes for many other lifestyle-related things. That’s basic training of a sort. Two people could agree to enter into a D/s relationship for a pre-specified length of time, and that relationship could be sexual in nature, or it could exclude any and all sexual elements. The Dominant could, providing they are qualified, offer the submissive pointers on how to, for example, manage the household better, improve their interpersonal skills, learn various types of sexual services, or it could include a training course at an actual school where the submissive learns how to manage a business or coordinate an event; however, all of this could be entirely useless once that relationship ends.

“Once you find that one special person, you connect with, and once you got to know each other, and vetted each other, and talked about wants and needs and limits and, and, and, then you can use the term ‘training’ again. In that situation, your Dominant can teach you what particular areas they want you to be more skilled in, and what their own personal preferences are. For example, how do they like their food or drink? What’s their daily schedule like and what can you do to help with it? How do they like their foot rub? All those things.”

Harry fell silent, and letting his head fall back, Draco looked up at him and shook his head.

“Someone got a bit passionate there for a moment, didn’t they, Sir?” he said with a smirk and chuckle.

Harry grinned at him, then turned his attention to Roísín.

“Sorry, I understand this is a lot to take in.”

Roísín smiled.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed, you guessed that right.”

“You know, Roísín, it’s good to have heard it all, but once you actually start playing, if that’s something you want to do, and you meet someone who ticks your boxes, it’s all a lot easier to understand. You’ll have the context then,” Draco said between two sips of wine.

Roísín giggled a little, and the light pink flush that graced her cheeks intensified a little.

“You know, I think I’d actually like to try and play with someone. Well, no, wait, that didn’t come outright. I’d like to meet someone, and if we click, I think I might want to play with them. Like, I don’t want to say that I’m ready for it, but I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d―”

“If I may offer a bit of advice, Roísín?”

Harry’s question cut Roísín off, but she didn’t seem to mind.

She nodded.

“Go for it, Harry,” she said.

Harry smiled.

“Very well. Think about it for a little while longer. Take your time, there’s no rush. Personally, I find, the more you think about something, the easier it is to decide whether that’s something you really want, or not. You’ll inevitably get to a point, where you’ll either want to take action or where you decide that it’s not for you after all.”

Roísín opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again and shook her head.

“You know, I think you may have a point. I should do a bit more thinking.”

Harry nodded.

“Do that. In a couple of weeks, when and if you’ve properly made up your mind, tell Draco, and I’d be more than happy to introduce you to a few decent chaps from around town.”

Roísín looked thoroughly surprised.

“You’d do that?” she asked.

Harry inclined his head.

“I thought I’d have to, I don’t know, do a couple of sessions with a psychologist to work on my confidence. I’m not the most outgoing person in the world.”

Harry smiled.

“I’d be more than happy to help with introductions, Roísín, and I’m sure if you ask Draco nicely, he’ll even agree to chaperone.”

Roísín giggled.

“I don’t think I’ll need an escort. Once I get past introductions, I’m generally OK. It’s just the first move that I’m not very good at.”

“That’s something you can ask your future Dom to help you work on. And I mean it, Roísín, I’d be more than happy to help you find someone. Your first experience should be unforgettable and knowing that you’re safe, and everything is sane and consensual would make me very happy.”

Draco nodded.

“Trust me, Ro, Harry is pretty serious about that sort of thing. He had two incredible mentors, and they’ve trained him right. Harry is the sort of guy who won’t stand for kink-shaming or unsafe play. He hates wannabe Dom(me)s who know nothing but pretend they know everything with a passion. If he introduces you to someone, you can be sure your experience is going to blow your mind.”

Roísín smiled.

“You two are both incredible. I’m so happy I decided to show up to that munch. I swear I’ll never stop being grateful for all of Draco’s advice, his time, and the effort he’s put into explaining everything to me.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat and hastily finished off the last bit of his wine. He was about to respond to Roísín’s praise when Harry beat him to it.

“Draco’s a good mentor. He’s learnt a great deal, and he’s both passionate about the lifestyle and patient when it comes to explaining stuff.”

Harry’s words resulted in Draco’s heart skipping a beat and the butterflies in his stomach decided on precisely this moment to take flight, insisting on turning his tummy upside down.

Without thinking, he reached up and placed his hand on top of Harry’s squeezing it gently.

Harry effortlessly took his hand, laced their fingers together, then squeezed back.

“I mean it, pet, you’re absolutely amazing, and Roísín is lucky to call you her friend.”

“Naw, stop you two, my little heart can’t take this, you’re absolutely wonderful.”

Draco laughed and looking up at Harry, he raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

Harry responded with a devious smirk and a barely discernible nod.

“Sir, may I have a kiss, please?” Draco asked with a slightly whiney undertone.

Harry bit his lip to stop himself from chuckling.

“Certainly, pet.”

He leant down and captured Draco’s lips in a soft kiss. It was nothing overly indecent, but Harry did linger for several seconds.

When he pulled back, Roísín had put her wine glass down and was lying horizontally on the sofa with one arm and one leg falling off the side as she pretended to be dead.

“Killed by an avalanche of gay cuteness and D/s perfection,” she mumbled.

Both Harry and Draco burst into a fit of unrestrained laughter.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Submissive Training, Conditioning, and Development"](https://xcbdsm.com/educational-offerings/handouts-and-resources/sub-training/) is quite an interesting article that offers a lot of insight and psychological reasoning behind the whole "training" thing.
> 
> Personally, I share Harry's opinion on "training." It’s an odd word and often confuses newbies to the kink world and it upsets me.
> 
> Sadly there are idiots out there who watch / read “50 Shades” today and the next day they decide they are a Dom. Those guys are one massive red flag and you could stay clear of them, always! They aren’t even worth a vanilla relationship.
> 
> There are, of course, also those who read that crap and then decide they are a submissive and then go out to explore, knowing nothing. When they really discover that this is something they are into and Frenzy ensues they are in for a rollercoaster ride of hurt, both mentally and physically.


	12. Sunday Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would humbly like to dedicate this chapter to the lovely ["Im_a_bird"](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_bird/pseuds/Im_a_bird), who, not so long ago, mused about what it might be like if Harry and Draco bickered/argued (thank you for inspiring me!). Now, I may or may not have something else in store for that particular trope, but I'm not going to give anything away just yet. You'll just have to wait and see.
> 
> I'll try my very best to post another chapter tomorrow, but I make no promises. I've got to work and might not finish it in time, but I should have chapter 13 for you on Sunday, I think.
> 
> Much love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Even though Harry had yet to show off his own whip-cracking skills, he already knew that he didn’t stand a chance, and despite his own competitiveness, he didn’t even mind.

When it came to controlling a whip, Charlie, having taken up whip-cracking as a hobby some twenty years ago, knew precisely what he was doing. He was also extremely good at making the whole thing look like it was a piece of cake. It was exactly that which had gotten Harry hooked in the first place.

After the whole nightmare with David, he’d sought solace and advice from Charlie, and being the responsible honorary big brother that Charlie was, he’d travelled all the way to Canada, putting up with temperatures that ranged between minutes twenty and minus thirty-five degrees Celsius.

One late morning, after deciding that he’d spent enough time sulking underneath his winter duvet, he’d put on his warmest winter clothes, and left the house with the very intention of going for a walk. It had been then that he’d found Charlie practising outside in the fresh snow and thoroughly intrigued, he’d asked how to handle a whip. So, thanks to Charlie and the fact that he desperately needed something to distract him so that his heart had the opportunity to heal, it had taken him less than five minutes to fall in love with the art of whip-cracking.

Harry smiled at the memory, then focused his attention back on Charlie’s little show.

He’d started with a simple enough crack, the Cattleman’s Crack, or as some liked to call it the Lion Tamer’s Crack, but for Charlie, that was nothing more than warm-up.

After a while, he moved on to show Draco the Backward Cattleman’s Crack and eventually the Overhead Crack as well as the Coachman’s Crack.

Essentially, all of these were related and based the very first crack, Charlie had done, but each one required a slightly different execution.

They also sounded and looked different.

After going through each of those basic crack’s several times, Charlie swiftly moved on to the Flick, which was the kind of crack that created a hairpin curve which travelled down the taper of the whip. It looked rather marvellous. He followed up with the Sidearm Flick, and after positioning Liam a few feet away from him, he showed Draco that this particular crack was excellent for body wraps. One casual glance in Draco’s direction and his excitement-filled gleaming eyes told Harry all he needed to know ― Draco wanted to learn how to be able to do that and he wanted to learn it very much.

Once Liam had moved out of the way again, Charlie demonstrated the Forward Flick.

Its crack sounded a lot more menacing than the Cattleman’s Crack, which was kind of playful, and Draco jumped a little. Charlie quickly distracted him with another type of crack ― a casual flick behind his back.

Harry rather enjoyed the surprised look on Draco’s face and the way his lips formed the perfect O-shape. It was precisely at that moment that Harry felt sorely tempted to put his own whip down, walk up to Draco and grasp his hips tightly. He wanted to pull him into a fiercely possessive kiss and claim Draco’s mouth, lips, and tongue with his own.

However, even though he knew that there was no need for him to hold back in front of Charlie and Liam, Harry restrained himself, deciding to save his desire to kiss Draco senseless for later.

He wanted to do so much more than share a passionate kiss with Draco.

He wanted to twist his fingers into Draco’s hair and guide those perfect pink lips to his cock.

He wanted to force Draco to swallow all of his cock while he knelt at his feet and looked up at him with big wide watery eyes.

He wanted Draco to feel every drop of his come, and then he wanted to twist Draco’s mind and turn him into a desperate mess.

He wanted to hear Draco beg him for his release and he wanted to repeatedly deny him, not because he was feeling ferocious, but because he loved to see that vulnerable side of Draco. He was the only one allowed to see it, and he was thoroughly addicted to that pleading look in Draco’s eyes and the way he breathlessly beseeched him to allow him to climax. The power his control over Draco had on his perfect little prince was the single most beautiful thing, Harry had ever seen. Each time Draco allowed him that glimpse right into the centre of his very soul, Harry found himself falling in love with him all over again.

Charlie thankfully chose precisely that moment to distract him with a smooth and elegant Underhand Flick, and the loud crack stopped Harry from continuing to fantasise about all the things he wanted to do to Draco’s mouth. Harry was really rather grateful for Charlie’s impeccable timing.

The idea of having to present his own whip-cracking skills to Draco, while simultaneously also having to deal with a raging hard-on pressing against the confines of his tight black jeans, wasn’t one that particularly excited Harry, and he gladly focused on what Charlie was doing. He put several different cracks together and cast them in rapid succession, creating a complicated-looking sequence.

On its own, each crack wasn’t all that impressive, but put together into an arrangement, like the one, Charlie was currently showing off, they looked genuinely magnificent.

Harry particularly liked the slow figure eight, followed by the fast-paced Volley.

Charlie repeatedly cracked his whip in front of himself and behind himself, moving his whip’s handle as though it was the windshield wiper of a car.

He made it look so simple because he expertly adjusted the position of his wrist following the way he threw his whip. When throwing his whip’s fall out in front of him, his wrist pointed down, and when cracking his whip behind him, he made sure to turn his wrist up towards the sky.

Charlie finally finished his little demonstration with a crack he called the Snake Killer and a humble little bow.

Suffice to say, Draco didn’t appreciate the name, but he was undoubtedly impressed by the crack and nodded in silent admiration.

Harry smirked.

He quite liked the fact that Draco was able to value the art of whip-cracking.

Although, what really made him proud, so proud that his heart expanded inside his chest and caused it to swell to at least double its original size, was the fact that Draco, despite whipping being one of his hard limits, was still showing an interest in the performance aspect of handling a whip.

“Potter, quit daydreaming and show your man what you’re made of!”

Harry felt Charlie poke him with the handle of his whip and snapping out of his own little world, he glared at Charlie.

“Is there even a point of me having a go at making a complete buffoon out of myself?”

Charlie shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. Ask Malfoy, he requested this little presentation.”

A devious thought crossed Harry’s mind and smirking, he decided to taunt Charlie a little.

“That’s true. Listen, Weasley, do you remember whether he said anything about playing fair?”

Charlie raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Are you going to go all Slytherin on me?”

Harry chuckled.

“Well, I’m dating one, aren’t I? It’d be a shame not to steal some of Draco’s little strategies. Besides, the Sorting Hat nearly put me there, and I am mature enough to see the benefits of occasionally being a bit of a Slytherin.”

“Potter, you don’t stand a chance, no matter what rabbit you pull out of the proverbial Muggle magician’s hat.”

Harry grinned.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, brother mine,” he said.

He was about to wink at Charlie when Draco spoke up.

“Potter, you have too much of a fondness for reckless behaviour and stupid bouts of bravery, you wouldn’t have lasted a day in the dungeons,” he said.

Harry chuckled.

“Dungeons are my favourite place to be, my love.”

Draco slowly crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Harry with an icy glower. All in all, he looked thoroughly piqued.

“Er, I’m just going to move over here,” Charlie said.

“You, know, just in case you two decide to duel in my back garden. I’d rather not be in the firing line and I’d rather my boy wasn’t either. I treat my property extremely well and am not especially fond of the idea of anyone damaging my Liam.”

“Weasley,” Draco said, turning his head slightly to look at Charlie, “I am not of such anserine stupidity, as to let myself be dragged into a duel with that dunce over there, even if the mere fact that he exists is presently grating on my nerves. Besides, all Potter here ever does is cast _Expelliarmus_, where’s the fun in that?”

“Seriously, Malfoy? Low blow, Draco, seriously low blow.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, but he didn’t even flinch.

“You deserve no less, Potter.”

_You deserve a sound spanking for that tone, my little prince,_ Harry thought, ignoring his itching palms. Instead of saying those words out loud, he tried to appease Draco with a sheepish grin.

It didn’t work.

“Potter, quit the kinky innuendos, they won’t work.”

“They won’t?” Harry asked.

He smirked.

“Funny, they usually do.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed into slits, and Harry thought that he looked a bit like the silver snake on the Slytherin crest. He kept that thought to himself as well.

“Potter.”

Draco growled his name.

“Fiery little dragon,” he said.

His teasing was deliberate but resulted in Draco looking at him like he was about to snap his neck.

For a moment, Harry wondered whether he should dial it back a notch, then he resolutely decided against it. This was way too much fun.

“You know, I do occasionally regret convincing the old hat that I definitely didn’t want him to sort me into Slytherin. Just imagine, the crush you had on me during the Triwizard Tournament might have had a different outcome altogether.”

Draco relaxed his stance somewhat, then rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t have a crush on you, Potter, don’t think so highly of yourself. I merely thought you were well fit.”

His Malfoyesque drawl had a distinctly derisive undertone.

Harry chuckled.

He genuinely enjoyed Draco’s scathing sass. It was hot. He also remembered the conversation during which Draco had confessed to him that he’d fancied him long before they’d put their differences aside. During that very conversation, the look on Draco’s face had made it several things quite clear ― he’d most definitely had had a crush on him back then.

Harry was acutely aware that he was walking on very thin ice, but he couldn’t quite resist the temptation to tease Draco just a little more.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” he asked.

Draco promptly glared daggers, but Harry remained entirely unfazed.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

He defiantly crossed his arms over his chest again.

Harry smiled.

“I think it is,” he insisted.

_If only you knew, my sweet little Slytherin prince_, Harry mused. The way Draco was acting only made Harry want to claim him even more, not to silence him, no, never that, but because when it came to Draco, this was one of Harry’s many kinks. He loved Draco’s sass or the way he sometimes, quite stubbornly so, insisted that he was right, even when he clearly wasn’t. Watching Draco get upset with him over something that had happened when they’d both been eleven years old, was highly amusing.

“Well, you aren’t always right, _Director_ Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“I’m not?” he asked.

“No,” Draco said.

He shook his head.

Harry took a step forward. He went to wrap his arm around Draco’s shoulders, but Draco sidestepped him at the last moment.

“Not a chance, Potter. You don’t get to worm back in by pretending to be―.”

Draco paused, clearly looking for the right word.

“Pretending to be what?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a moment, furrowing his brows as he did so, then answered him.

“Cute,” he said.

Harry instantly feigned a hurt expression.

“What do you mean by _pretending_? I _am_ cute. Everyone knows that.”

“Salazar’s wand, you make my skin crawl.”

Draco shifted as though a shudder had just gone through him.

Harry gave him a sly smirk.

“In a good way, I hope.”

“Most definitely not.”

“For the love of Merlin, will you two dunderheads do the world a favour and get married already?”

At first, Harry thought Charlie had cut into their good-natured bickering. It was only when he turned and saw Liam’s apologetic expression, that he realised Charlie hadn’t said a thing, but Liam had.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he whispered.

He cast his eyes downward, firmly fixing them on the floor, and placed his hands behind his back.

“I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn.”

While Harry never stopped Draco from saying what he wanted when he wanted, except for actual playtime, Charlie had an entirely different set of rules for Liam. The code of conduct, Liam had to follow, said he wasn’t allowed to speak out of turn unless Charlie had given him permission to do so, but apparently, he hadn’t quite managed to control his tongue.

Surprisingly, Charlie looked anything but cross.

Quite the opposite, even.

He was thoroughly amused, and there was a cheeky twinkle in his bright blue eyes. He wrapped both arms around Liam and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

“No matter, my boy, this one we’ll ignore. But only because you’re absolutely right and do fault you for that would be entirely counterproductive.”

To make his point, Charlie squeezed Liam even tighter and kissed the top of his head.

“I wholeheartedly agree, my boy. Those two dunderheads should get married, sooner rather than later.”

Harry groaned.

“Stop corrupting him, brother mine.”

Charlie half-turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

“He’s my property, I have his permission to do with him as I please when I please. If I want to corrupt him, I absolutely will.”

Liam pressed his lips together to swallow a laugh, but the amused expression on his face gave him away.

“Master, may I say something?” he asked softly, his voice low and soft.

Charlie nodded.

“Absolutely, my boy.”

“I’d just like to clarify; Master Charlie didn’t put that thought in my head. Anyone who spends five minutes in your presence will come to the same conclusion.”

“The suits will be Slytherin green!”

Harry turned around and raised an eyebrow at Draco.

“Over my dead body,” he said.

Draco smirked.

He drew his wand and aimed it at Harry’s chest.

“If you insist, Potter,” he said.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Like you’d have the guts, Malfoy.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Harry laughed.

“Do you want it to be? Remember, I don’t need _Expelliarmus_ to disarm you, I proved that to you on numerous occasions.”

Draco frowned but didn’t lower his wand.

Without further ado, Harry jammed his whip between his thighs, and applying a bit of pressure, he held it there, then pulled his long-sleeved shirt off, revealing his bare torso, and tossed it onto the ground.

He deliberately flexed his muscles and taking a few steps, he brought a bit of distance between himself and Draco, then took his position.

When he turned around to look at Draco, he found that Draco’s jaw had basically dropped to the ground while his eyeballs threatened to pop out of their sockets. He was still holding on to his wand and Harry smirked deviously.

_Not for much longer, my little prince_, he thought, then adjusted his stance and flexing his fingers, he slipped his hand through the wrist strap attached to his whip’s handle. He gripped the whip tight, then cracked it entirely without warning. The fall flew out, and the tip of it wound itself around Draco’s wand.

Harry gave his whip a rather fierce tag, and Draco’s wand sailed right out of his hand. It flew through the air, and stretching his muscular arm up, Harry caught it without ease, then smiled in that irritatingly smug way, he knew would drive Draco livid.

He silently counted to three, watched Draco’s nostril’s flare. He curled his fingers and formed two fists. His eyes narrowed once more, turning into thin slits, and he growled.

“Fucking Slytherin! Charlie, you’ve got the job!”

Turning on the heel of his black Oxfords, Draco stormed off into the direction of the house.

For a moment, Harry felt the intense desire to crack his whip and guide its fall to curl around Draco’s waist, preventing him from leaving, but cracking a whip with the intent of having it wrap around someone’s body while their back was turned went against everything Harry believed in, including playing it safe and obtaining consent. Instead of immediately following Draco into the cottage, he retrieved his shirt, put it back on and ensured that it was stain-free.

“Trouble in paradise?” Charlie asked.

Harry shook his head.

“Nah, he’s just in a huff.”

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Liam asked.

There was a curious sparkle in his eyes, and Harry smiled.

“In a minute. Or five. When he’s less likely to try and choke me with his bare hands. He hates it when I snatch his wand like that.”

“Are you always this volatile with each other?”

Harry laughed.

Before he got the chance to answer, Charlie spoke up.

“Yes, my boy. You know those two have history. This is their idea of foreplay. For tomorrow’s chores, you’re allowed your wand, sweetheart. You’ll need it to burn the sheets in the guest bedroom. There are only two ways this afternoon is going to go. Either they’ll wrestle each other to death, in which case I’ll have to renovate, or Potter here worms his way back under Draco’s skin using his irresistible Dom charm, and then Draco will beg him to fuck him through the mattress, in which case you may as well burn the whole bed.”

“Noted, Master Charlie.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“You are bloody mental, Weasley.”

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Harry huffed out a breath of air.

“I don’t want you in any way. The only one I want is presently sulking inside your cottage.”

Charlie’s response to that was to hug Liam tighter and kiss his temple.

“They’ll fuck.”

He lowered his voice as he said, but Harry still caught it.

Since he still had Draco’s wand in his hand, he simply aimed it at Charlie and cast a non-verbal stinging hex.

Charlie yelped and rubbed his now sore arse cheek, then growled.

“Potter you―”

“Sneaky bastard, I know. I love you too, brother mine.”

Charlie snarled.

“I swear, one of these days I’ll whip you black and blue.”

Harry laughed.

“Tom Riddle,” he said.

“Like that’s going to save your scrawny arse. Family ties void safewords.”

“Oi, I take offence at that. I don’t have a scrawny arse. It’s very nicely-shaped, round and very firm.”

Charlie hollered with laughter.

“Get the hell out of my face, Potter, before I kick you up your very nicely-shaped, round and very firm arse.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t even think about that. Draco rather likes my arse, and I’m sure he’ll be distraught if he finds out that you bruised it in any shape or form.”

“That little dragon doesn’t scare me.”

Harry chuckled.

“You say that now. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better head inside and grovel at my boyfriend’s feet, begging for forgiveness.”

“Who knew, there’s a submissive bone in you, after all, Potter. Wait until I tell Caleb, he’ll have an absolute field day.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you two children have fun on the playground. I’m going to go and do the mature thing, which his promise Draco to ply him with his favourite chocolate and let him have control over the television remote for a week. Merlin’s saggy balls, we’ll be watching _Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?_ on repeat every night for seven days. This is what your life is like when you’re dating a Slytherin who’s also very well versed in contract law. Despite being Dominant in nature, you must agree to relinquish your control in order to get back into your little dragon’s good books. Life is hard, boys.”

While Charlie and Liam chuckled under their breaths, Harry turned and left them to their own devices. As he headed for the cottage, he casually toyed with Draco’s wand, and smirked to himself. He had a plan. It was a slightly devious plan, but it was a plan.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, flicking a whip and wrapping it around someone's body is entirely possible and it's possible to do it without hurting that person or leaving a mark.  
If you'd like to check out some of the types of whip-cracks I've mentioned in the video, check out ["Whip-Cracking"](http://www.ahandfulofhats.co.uk/western-skills) \-- if you scroll all the way to the bottom, you'll find a bunch of instructional videos that show different types of cracks. Personally, I love the sound of a whip cracking through the air.


	13. Getting Lucky With A Gryffindor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smirk*
> 
> *dirty smirk*
> 
> *devious smirk*
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> *runs*
> 
> *gets on a plane and simultaneously enters the witness protection programme*
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

_You and your silky-smooth overly persuasive voice may have managed to worm your way underneath my skin, Potter, but that doesn’t mean I won’t retaliate_, Draco thought with a dirty smirk plastered square across his face as he headed down Diagon Alley straight towards Number 93: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

It was quite early, only a few minutes past eight, and what with it being a Tuesday, the only wizards and witches about were those who worked on Diagon Alley or had pressing business to attend to. Such activities usually involved a visit to Gringotts Wizarding Bank for an emergency cash withdrawal or the exchange of Galleons into British Muggle currency. Other than that, an elderly wizard entered Flourish, and Blotts with two large parcels of books in his arms, and a short middle-aged witch was busy inspecting a cauldron with a massive hole in the centre of its bottom.

Draco frowned slightly.

He didn’t even want to hazard a guess as to what sort of mishap had resulted in a bottomless cauldron. It did remind him of Harry’s and his Hogwarts days, and especially of Harry’s non-existing talents when it came to brewing potions. Not a class had gone by where Draco hadn’t silently wondered how on earth somebody could be so dense when it came to reading instructions and following a recipe. These days, Harry was a lot better at brewing potions but artistry it was not.

Draco consciously smoothed his forehead and inclined his head politely to greet one of his colleagues, as she exited Black Magic with a large paper coffee cup in one hand and a chocolate scone in the other. She nodded in return, then rushed past him, striding into the direction of The Leaky Cauldron, with her black Prosecutor’s robes billowing behind her. The click-clack of her heels repeatedly connecting with the cobblestoned ground, echoed up and down the street for quite some time and Draco took a moment to appreciate the relative silence all around him. It would be another hour or two before Diagon Alley woke up fully and the street bustled with lively action, chattering wizards and witches and overexcited small children.

Once he could no longer hear his colleague’s tread, Draco turned his attention back to his earlier thoughts. There was only one reason why Harry was so inept at making potions: He hated following orders.

Harry Potter had become the sort of man who made the rules, not followed them. He liked giving orders, and he certainly enjoyed watching others execute those orders. Harry most definitely wasn’t the type of person who blindly followed instructions just because a book told him to do so and not even something as innocent as a cookbook could convince him otherwise.

Draco felt his smirk return.

Rebellious bastard, he thought and quickened his pace somewhat. He reached Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes only a few minutes later and climbing the four steps that led up to the shop’s front doors, he reached out and grabbed the oversized golden handle, then dragged the door open. A little bell announced his arrival and stepping over the threshold, Draco glanced around. He spotted George Weasley behind the counter. He perched on a high stool and had his nose buried in paperwork, which he’d spread out over the entire bar, but looked up as Draco crossed through the shop and approached him.

“Malfoy,” he said with a curt nod.

Draco took in the messy arrangement of documents and files and shuddered inwardly. How anyone could get any work done with one’s papers in such complete disarray was a mystery to him. Harry was the same, although ever since he’d hired the new senior administrative assistant, Draco had recommended to him, he’d improved slightly.

It truly was a stark contrast, and one Draco regularly marvelled at. Harry preferred rules and order. He wanted obedience. But when it came to his paperwork, Harry was entirely capable of literally burying himself up to his neck in case files and interrogation reports.

Miraculously, and the despite the mess he managed to create in his office at the Ministry or his study at home, he still possessed the ability to get some work done. Despite having known Harry for over two decades hand having dated him for a little over two years, Draco still considered him an amusing conundrum full of unexpected surprises.

He smiled.

George’s expression softened a bit, and he relaxed, dropping his shoulders and placing his quill on top of a parchment filled with numbers.

“Is Ron in the back?” Draco asked.

George nodded.

“Told me you’d be coming by but wouldn’t tell me why. Everything alright between you and Harry? No plans to kill each other yet?”

George smirked.

Draco chuckled.

“We’ve come close a few times, but you see, the sex is too good.”

George laughed.

“Way to go, Malfoy, that’s got to be the best reason I’ve ever heard for dating someone.”

Draco shrugged, then flashed George a beaming grin.

“Might be worth an exclusive with the Prophet.”

George let out a breath of laughter.

His eyes sparkled and danced with genuine amusement and Draco couldn’t help the small flood of overly sentimental feelings that clogged up his chest and caused him to swallow past the lump in his throat. He made sure not to let any of his emotions show in front of George, but he was genuinely grateful for the warm welcome he’d received from everyone at the Burrow. The Weasleys had welcomed him with open arms, offering him a clean slate, because all of them had been able to see how much Harry cared for him. Whenever Harry and he visited for dinner or to partake in a family gathering, he usually couldn’t help but keep his protective mask on, but Harry had repeatedly assured him that he was welcome, and the message was slowly starting to sink in.

“I can see the frontpage headlines already, _Sizzling Between the Sheets: An Intimate Account of The Saviour’s Sexual Prowess_. Turn to page two, three, four, five, and six for Exclusive Pensive Memories!”

Draco laughed hard, so hard that his lungs started to protest and his sides ached. He forced himself to gulp down several large breaths of air and slowly calmed down, then frowned a little when George’s less than veiled hint about Harry and him tying the knot slowly sank in. He tried his best to ignore the friendly nudge into the direction of the register office and focused on keeping the conversation light-hearted instead.

“Sounds like something Skeeter would print. Although the last time she rubbed Harry up the wrong way, he arranged to have her transferred to the Prophet’s legal department and she ended up covering court cases for six months. I may have pulled a few strings and ensured that she spent the majority of that time covering the most insipid cases ever.”

George grinned.

“Sneaky Slytherin,” he said.

Draco smiled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Do that, it was intended as one.”

“Thanks.”

Draco dithered for a moment, unsure whether he should just head to the back of the shop and straight into the workshop or whether George expected him to continue the conversation. His indecisiveness bothered him, and after a minute, he decided to dip his toes into the deep end of the pool.

“George?”

“Hm?”

“I just, erm, thanks for the support. I really do love him, you know.”

George looked at him with a thoroughly curious expression, then smiled. It was a warm and soft smile, and so far, the only person Draco had seen George look at in this way was his wife Angelina and their two children. Inexplicably, the lump in Draco’s throat grew to double its previous size, and George’s next words somewhat surprised him.

“Malfoy, you can hide behind that aristocratic mask of yours all you want, but just so you know, any fool can tell that you’re absolutely smitten with Harry and vice versa. I honestly don’t know what either one of you is waiting for. For the love of Godric Gryffindor, put a ring on each other’s finger already and fly off into the sunset on Harry’s favourite broomstick.”

Draco pressed his lips tightly together, and with great difficulty he managed to swallow the groan that had made its way to the tip of his tongue and threatened to force itself out into the open.

“Salazar’s snake, what is it with everyone dropping hints about us getting married!” he exclaimed.

George laughed.

“We’re all eagerly awaiting the wedding of the century, that’s all,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’m heading to the back to go and find Ron,” he said.

As he turned on the smooth heels of his handmade black Oxfords and prepared to walk off, George began to sing the lyrics to a hugely popular folk-rock song, though he’d clearly changed them a bit since the original was quite different.

“You belong with him, he belongs with you, you’re his sweetheart, you belong with him, he belongs with you, he’s your sweetheart…”

Draco turned his head, glowered at George, who merely grinned in response and raised both arms in mock surrender.

Shaking his head, Draco decided to ignore him and headed straight for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes’ workshop. To his horror, he found himself humming the song, George had just butchered, and thoroughly annoyed, Draco didn’t bother to knock on the heavy wooden door that led to the workshop. Instead, he turned the knob, and pushing the door open, he walked inside, intentionally giving Ron a bit of a fright.

_He deserves it for that decidedly unenthusiastic response to my owl_, Draco thought but firmly plastered his politest smile onto his face and slowly approached Ron’s workbench, and pushed the persistent nagging thought that Ron’s lukewarm response to his owl was down to the fact that he absolutely never owled Ron, to the furthest corner of his mind.

“Are you over your truly shameful loss yet?” he asked.

A change of subject always worked, especially when you were a lawyer. It generally confused the hell out of people and made them assume he had a hidden agenda when, really, you most definitely did not.

The questioned earned him a cold and deathly glower from Ron, who pushed his stool back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You owe me a rematch, Draco Malfoy,” he snarled, deliberately lacing his voice with a generous helping of bitterness.

Draco allowed himself to smirk.

“You always say that, Weasley,” he drawled, while pretending to inspect his perfectly manicured fingernails, and therefore purposefully leading Ron to believe he didn’t care either way.

Ron gave him a pointed glare.

“Look, Malfoy, do you want my help or not?”

Draco considered the question for a moment, then dropped his hands to his sides, and gifted Ron a truly devious smirk.

“That depends entirely on whether you’ve ratted me out to our common enemy or not,” he said, trying his best to appear thoroughly nonchalant.

He really did want and need Ron’s help, but he wasn’t about to let Ron know that.

Ron frowned deeply.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

Draco shrugged.

He approached the workbench, pushed a few items out of the way and perched himself on the edge of the large and sturdy wooden table.

“He’s your best mate, and you’re a Gryffindor. It’s in your best interest to protect him from a sinister and sly Slytherin like me.”

Ron laughed.

“Drop the act, Malfoy. Potter isn’t in my good books at the moment and as such, fellow Gryffindors or not, I am presently not inclined to side with him.”

Draco arched a questioning eyebrow at Ron and held his gaze for a full minute, silently enjoying the fact that he could make Ron squirm in his seat without putting any real effort behind it. They’d agreed to a truce long before Harry, and he had celebrated their first anniversary, and somehow, their shared passion for Wizarding Chess and their stubborn competitiveness when it came to winning a match had helped them to forge strange kind of friendship.

Granted, they bickered most of the time, and also managed to think of a thousand different ways to rile each other up, but somehow the truce held, and they got on with each other. Sometimes it felt a bit like Ron had taken Harry’s place when it came to exchanging sassy insults and riling each other up until they exchange resulted in a friendly trade of abuses, as they squabbled back and forth over a game of chess or a couple of drinks.

Strangely enough, neither Granger nor Harry ever intervened and stopped them from having a go at each other. Although, Harry had promised him, threatening a harsh spanking with a wooden paddle, that drawing wands and challenging each other to a Wizarding Duel would be taking their petty quarrels one step too far. Harry’s guarantee that he would most definitely not enjoy said spanking but cry bitter tears was enough of an incentive for Draco to control himself to the best of his abilities. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Granger had, perhaps, given Ron similar motivation.

Draco smirked.

Oddly enough, and even though he was still a bit miffed at Harry for the epic stunt he’d pulled when they’d visited Charlie in Romania, he was in a good mood.

“Right then, Weasley. Let’s suppose we’re on the same side―”

“There’s nothing to suppose here, Malfoy, we are. Strangely enough.”

Draco chuckled.

“For legal reason, I shall keep my responses non-committal. It’ll be easier to talk my way out of any crime I might or might not be about to aid you in committing.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Drop the lawyer’s act, Malfoy. I’m not recording this conversation, and there are no extendible ears hidden away anywhere. Also, Potter is not hiding under his invisibility cloak.”

Draco grinned.

“I like the fact that you’re calling him Potter, makes forging a possible alliance with you much easier.”

Ron shrugged.

“I told him to keep his big mouth shut and his comments to himself. He decided to repeatedly ignore my warnings and this time I am retaliating. He’s got it coming. Revenge is sweet, Malfoy, revenge is sweet.”

Draco laughed.

“You’re talking like a true Slytherin, Weasley. I like it. Now, are you sure your plan is fool-proof?”

“Given my choice of work, the fact that you’re questioning my competency makes me wonder whether you truly have the balls to do this, Malfoy.”

Draco raised his arms in mock surrender.

“Alright, easy there, Lion King,” he said.

“I just want to make sure that it’s going to work. Harry’s pretty smart, and if I’m frank, I’m rubbish at lying to him. He has this uncanny ability to make me want to spill the truth…”

Ron furrowed his brows.

“What’s there to lie about? I’ll get Mione to drop by Harry’s office later today and invite him and you over to the house for dinner tomorrow night. She’s been going on and on about having the two of you over for a couple weeks now, and quite frankly, it’s grating on my nerves. Mum’s got time to take the baby for the night, so it’ll just be the four of us. All you need to do is to ensure that you and Harry show up on time. How difficult is that? Me and Mione are doing all the work here.”

“Have you told her that we’re considering to prank him?”

Ron gave him an utterly disbelieving stare.

“Are you bloody mental, Malfoy? My wife will string me up by my balls if she finds out that we’re going to ruin dessert and since I’m rather attached to all of my dangly bits, I’m only going to tell her what she needs to know, which is you and Harry are coming for dinner and that it’s her job to invite you both.”

“What if Harry declines?”

Ron gave an exasperated sigh.

“Malfoy, I can be quite persuasive when I want to be and I will make sure that my wife will not take no for an answer, though how I plan to secure that she’s going to nag Harry until he says yes is something I’d rather keep to myself, if you don’t mind.”

Draco smirked.

“By all means, I’m not especially keen on your bedroom escapades.”

Ron’s cheeks pinked a little, and he glared.

“Careful there, Malfoy, or you’ll lose your partner in crime.”

“Don’t be petty, Weasley.”

“I’m not. If you behave that this. Now, are you going to offer him a glass of milk?”

Draco considered Ron’s question for a moment or two, then gave him a dirty smirk and shook his head.

“Nope, I don’t think so. Not immediately anyway. I think he needs to suffer for a bit until the message sinks in properly.

Ron nodded.

“Agreed. I’ll message you after Mione has invited Harry.”

“Don’t owl the house.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“How stupid do you think I am, Malfoy?”

Draco wanted to reply with _pretty_ but decided to bite his tongue instead. The last he wanted was for Ron to take offence and rat him out to Harry after all. He suspected that Harry would find some thoroughly underhanded way to get back at him, but for once, he wasn’t prepared to waste his thoughts about that yet.

For now, all he wanted to do was to enjoy the idea of thoroughly pranking Harry and teaching him a lesson he wouldn’t forget for quite some time.

_That’s what you get for disarming me with your whip, Potter, and then having the audacity to prance about half-naked, being all sly and all_, he thought, and rubbing his hands together, he gleamed. He was thoroughly excited and hoped that he and Ron would manage to pull their epic prank off.

“Here,” Ron said, holding out a business card.

Draco stopped musing about getting his revenge for Harry’s dirty tactics and reached for the card.

Ron had scribbled the address of a bakery on it.

“Apart from mum’s home-baked one, he’s utterly in love with the treacle tart from that place.”

Draco frowned.

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?”

Ron chuckled.

“Because he doesn’t know the address. Mione and me refuse to tell him.”

“Wicked, I like it.”

Ron grinned.

“You see, Malfoy, Harry isn’t the only one who knows how to play dirty. I’ve got a couple of tricks up my sleeve as well.”

“I’m starting to discover that. My respect, Weasley, my respect.”

Ron rose from his stool and took a mock bow, then grinned.

“Now shoo, I’ve got work to do and orders to prepare. Make sure you stop by that place tomorrow and pick up the tart. I’ve already owled to order. It’s under my name, but they know someone else will stop by to pick it up. Bring it here afterwards, and I’ll prepare it, then take it home before dinner.”

Draco nodded.

“Alright,” he said.

“Good, now get out of my face before I decide that challenging you to a rematch is more important than preparing fifty-seven orders from Hogwarts students.”

_You’ll lose anyway_, Draco thought but smiled sweetly instead.

“We can play afterwards to celebrate getting our own back.”

Ron inclined his head and gave him the thumbs up.

“I’ll hold you to that, Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled, turned on his heel and left the workshop. He strode through the shop, waved at George on the way out and leaving the shop, he headed down Diagon Alley and towards The Leaky Cauldron, grinning like a complete loon all the way there. He barely resisted to rub the palms of his hands together in glee, and shoving them into the outer pockets of his robes, he thoroughly basked in his excitement.

Tomorrow night was going to be fun.

* * *

* * *


	14. The Double-Edged Sword Strikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither Harry nor Draco decided to play by my rules and I misplaced my whip or I might have whipped both their arses black and blue -- next time I'll just grab a cane.  
I'm not sorry, so not sorry, not even a tiny little bit sorry. I am utterly convinced that you, dear reader (please replace with your name), need this very(!) important(!) chapter.  
*smirks*
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Draco poked his head around the door to Harry’s and his bedroom and instantly frowned, unable to comprehend how it was possible that he was ready to go, but Harry wasn’t anywhere near ready to leave the house.

Harry presently stood in front of their floor-length bedroom mirror, dressed in nothing but a tight black pair of boxer briefs, black socks and a midnight blue shirt, which he’d yet to finish buttoning up.

“How is it that you’re still only half-dressed?” Draco asked.

He just about managed not to shake his head in sheer disbelief. When it came to getting ready, Harry seldom took forever and generally just took one look around the walk-in wardrobe, picking out the garments, he intended to wear. Draco preferred to see his clothes on him. The visuals helped him decide what shirt to match with what pair of trousers.

Somehow, he was more comfortable doing it that way.

Occasionally, just holding the items up against himself worked too, but he still preferred trying things on first before making a definite decision. For tonight’s dinner he’d opted for a black pair of skinny jeans, which were just the right amount of tight, but didn’t restrict his movements in any way. He’d paired it with a long-sleeved light grey shirt. The matching grey leather jacket was downstairs in the living room and since he didn’t like walking around the house wearing shoes, he’d yet to put them on.

Harry paused doing up his shirt, looked at him through the mirror, and arching his right eyebrow slightly, he held Draco’s gaze with frightful ease.

“Since when are you this excited to have dinner with Mione and Ron?”

Draco tried his hardest not to squirm, but Harry’s unfaltering and steady look was making it rather difficult to resist. A huge part of him wanted to give in to the strong desire to submit to _that_ fixed stare. It felt like _those_ piercing emerald-green eyes were trying to pin him down, and Draco couldn’t come up with a single good reason as to why he shouldn’t let them do just that. He swallowed hard, and straightening up a little, he disguised his squirm with a casual shrug of his shoulders, then smiled. Somehow, he managed to come up with a perfunctory response to Harry’s question.

“Spending time with your friends makes you happy, and I like seeing you happy.”

Harry didn’t look at all convinced, but when he didn’t immediately question his answer, Draco relaxed and stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him and leant back against it. He indulged in giving Harry a slow once-over, silently appreciating every single curve of Harry’s toned and muscular body. He loved the way those muscles flexed. Harry had incredibly powerful leg muscles, and his upper arms were a force to be reckoned with.

Try as he might, Draco couldn’t stop the images that insisted on flooding his mind. He knew exactly what it felt like when Harry used his body to restrain him when he straddled him and pinned his arms to the bed or to the floor, and the images filled Draco with intense longing. He wanted Harry to hold him down. He wanted to feel owned. He belonged to Harry, and he wanted Harry to show him that he did.

Draco also found it extremely hard to drag his eyes away from Harry’s arse and when he finally managed to do so, and his and Harry’s eyes met again, Harry was looking at him with a wicked sort of smirk plastered across his face.

“Like what you see?”

The teasing undertone in Harry’s voice made Draco nod before he’d consciously thought of how he wanted to answer the question, but he suppressed the low and needy whine he could feel rising up his throat. The words filled his mouth, and Draco pressed his lips together to stop the sound from spilling out into the open. For now, he managed. He was sure, or at least he wanted to be, that given the right incentive, he wouldn’t be able to exercise that level of self-control. Well, he was always able to compose himself, but whenever Harry stepped things up and dominated him, Draco saw no reason to hold on to that self-restraint. For Harry he wanted to let go of all the things that kept him together. He wanted to fall apart at the seams, and he did it gladly and often.

“Come here, my little prince.”

An electric jolt of excitement zapped down the length of his spine, and when it reached his groin, Draco thought a streak of lightning had struck him right in the centre of his crotch. Something red-hot and fiercely intense unfurled inside of him and spread out through the rest of his body, setting it on fire too.

This time, Draco absolutely did not manage to resist the resulting squirm, and he could tell that Harry had noticed.

There was a thoroughly devious glint in his eyes, and his almost irritatingly smug smile made Draco go weak at the knees. For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether they could still hold him upright, but deciding to put a bit of trust into them, he pushed himself away from the door and walked over to where Harry stood.

Less than a second later, he found himself pressed up against the mirror and let out a soft whimper. The sound flew out of his mouth and a breath of air, and he blinked, mentally adjusting to the shift in Harry’s and his dynamic.

Harry gripped his wrists, squeezed them tightly and dragged them behind his back, were he crossed them at the wrists, effectively restraining him. He held them there with one hand, then Draco felt him grip his chin. Harry squeezed it just tight enough for it to feel a little bit uncomfortable but was nowhere near rough enough for Draco to even entertain the thought of asking Harry to stop.

“Now, is that more of an incentive for you to tell me the truth, my little prince?”

Harry’s voice was low and husky, and he sounded just assertive enough for the pit of Draco’s stomach to fill with a mild bout of trepidation. It was the kind of fear that was fuelled by the intensely exciting prospect of the unknown and the knowledge that no matter what Harry was about to do, Draco was bound to enjoy it. He trusted Harry explicitly. He trusted him to stop or change his course of action when told _no_, and he trusted Harry to cease dominating him when and if he used his safeword. Knowing he held that sort of power intoxicated Draco and feeling a bit heady, he inhaled deeply.

Another flash of something intense zapped through him.

He’d checked the time just before checking on Harry and knew that they still had plenty of time. He also knew that Harry was well aware of how much time they had left before they had to get going. The only thing Draco didn’t know was how far Harry intended to take this little physical demonstration of the power he held over him, but he didn’t mind.

Quite on the contrary.

Over the past year or so, Draco had discovered that he rather liked it when Harry surprised him with a bit of dominance and took charge when Draco least expected him to do so. He thoroughly loved the thrill of it. Especially when they were in a place where he couldn’t be overly obvious about his desire to fall at Harry’s feet and had to get creative to think of other, more subtle, ways to show his submission. It had become somewhat of a game between him and Harry, one Draco enjoyed to a great extent.

As for tonight, Draco was prepared to go all the way, or at least as far as Harry wanted him to go. If a quick shag or his best oral skills ensured that he’d be able to get his revenge on Harry for stealing his wand with a whip of all things, then he was most definitely ready to commit every part of himself to make sure the evening ended with a lesson, Harry would remember for quite some time.

“Do I not get an answer, my little prince? Don’t tell me you are feeling disobedient tonight? Because if you are, we’ll definitely have to do something about that. I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas about how this relationship works.”

Draco shook his head in response to that question, then a cheeky thought struck him, and smiling softly, he looked at Harry.

“You’re well fit, Sir, of course, I like what I see,” he said.

He tried to control his sassy undertone at least a little bit but didn’t quite manage. One could either lace one’s response with a generous helping of sass, or one could be entirely serious. Strangely enough, a bit of both never worked.

Harry gave him a slightly pointed look.

“You know that that’s not what I meant, my little prince. Is someone trying to earn himself a sound spanking as an appetiser? I would certainly enjoy watching you squirm through dinner, knowing your flaming-red arse cheeks are thrumming and throbbing and that you can still feel the lingering sensations of my palms connecting with them repeatedly.”

Draco pressed his lips together and fought his hardest to force the unbelievably cheeky response, that presently lingered on the tip of his tongue, right back down into the abyss it had come from. Somehow, he didn’t think to answer Harry’s question with a flippant ‘_we’ll see about that_’ was the way to go here. It most definitely would not end well for him or his arse ― it was the perfect invitation for Harry to demand that he pull his trousers down and kneel on the floor in front of the bed.

So, instead, he settled for feigning an apology and prayed to all four founders of Hogwarts that Harry bought his little white lie.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I misunderstood. You see, you’re really rather distracting and―”

Harry cut him off by squeezing his chin that bit harder, and momentarily closing his eyes, Draco swallowed and adjusted to the tightness.

“Insatiable little thing you, I think a lesson in controlling yourself is in order very soon, don’t you?”

Draco swallowed hard and averted his eyes.

He knew exactly what _a lesson in controlling yourself_ was a euphemism for and while he usually thoroughly enjoyed it when Harry edged him, he didn’t like it one bit when Harry did it to discipline him.

A punishment that included edge play usually ended with him feeling extraordinarily horny and Harry either denying him his orgasm altogether or ruining it in some cruel sort of way.

Those types of orgasms weren’t at all satisfying and Draco dreaded the thought of having one. No orgasms for a whole month was better than a ruined one.

“Please, no, Sir.”

Keeping his eyes averted, Draco pleaded softly and hoped that Harry was feeling merciful.

Harry’s soft chuckle sent a shudder through him.

“Then drop the sass and tell the truth.”

Draco’s knees buckled slightly, and he briefly pressed his lips together, then, took a deep breath and looked up at Harry.

“Honest answer?” he asked, purposefully stalling for a bit of time.

Harry nodded.

“Yes, my little prince.”

Draco sighed.

“Fine, here goes nothing. I just know that you’re going to hit me with a stinging hex for saying this, but I’m kinda looking forward to having a bit of a bicker with Ron. He’s still so tetchy about losing that last game of Wizarding Chess we played, and it’s even more fun like this.”

Harry’s response surprised Draco a little bit.

He snorted with laughter and slowly releasing his chin, Harry leant in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You and Ron remind me of the two of us and our time at Hogwarts,” he said.

Draco felt his cheeks heat a little.

“We don’t squabble like that anymore,” he admitted, looking rather sheepish.

Harry smiled.

“Do you miss it?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Sometimes.”

Harry chuckled.

“You should have said something, my love. I don’t mind squabbling for the sake of squabbling if it makes you happy. I’m sure we could find something trite cross wands over.”

Draco shook his head.

“We fight differently now, and I think I like that better.”

“You think?”

Draco shrugged.

“I feel,” he said.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

Harry smiled.

“You’re something else, my love.”

Draco shrugged.

He felt Harry loosen his hold on his wrists and turned his head from side to side to try and show Harry that he didn’t want him to do that. Not just yet. He didn’t feel ready.

“Please, no,” he whispered.

Harry paused.

“Please no what, my little prince? You know the rules, you’ve got to tell me what it is you want, I can’t mindread.”

Draco averted his eyes again. He could feel his cheeks heat, and he was pretty sure that they had a very noticeable pink tint to them by now.

“Please, don’t let go, Sir.”

“Well, my little prince, since you’re asking so nicely, I’m certainly not going to turn you down,” Harry said.

He used both his hands to squeeze Draco’s wrists, and this time his grasp was a lot firmer than before, and Draco felt him repositioning his restrained hands. When Harry had first grabbed him, he’d placed his wrists on his lower back, but now he pushed further up, towards the centre of his back.

On top of Harry’s crushingly tight grip on his wrists, Draco could feel the muscles in his upper arms protest against the unnatural position. They began to burn, and he let out a soft whimper ― this felt amazing, and he thoroughly relished in Harry’s power over him, and soon enough, he lost himself in the haze of it.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“What was that now? I didn’t catch that.”

Draco pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. He knew that Harry had heard him and that Harry was doing this on purpose, but he didn’t mind, not even in the slightest.

Forcing himself to speak a little louder, Draco cleared his throat, then repeated himself.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Why, you’re most welcome, my love.”

Draco let the words wash over him and allowed himself a moment to blissfully float, indulging in the sensations that flowed through him.

Harry squeezed his wrists tighter still, and humming softly, Draco revelled in the possessive hold, Harry had on him, then whimpered when Harry pressed his lips to the shell of his ear and blew hot air all over it, then nibbled at his earlobe, biting it gently.

“You’re mine, all mine, aren’t you, my little prince?”

“_Ngh_, yes, Sir.”

Draco had to force himself to answer that question with actual words. His brain felt foggy, and it wasn’t very inclined to do its job. Somehow, everything beyond the bare necessities seemed entirely too difficult to accomplish. His mind was fully focused on ensuring that his lungs kept taking in the air his body needed. It also made sure to keep his heart beating so that it could continue to tirelessly pump oxygen-rich blood through his veins.

“No, not good enough, try again, my little prince.”

Harry whispered the words right into his ear, and Draco’s knees buckled at once. They shook and trembled, and Draco really wasn’t sure how much longer they would support him. He sucked in a large amount of air, held on to it for several seconds, then slowly exhaled.

“I’m yours, Sir.”

“That’s right, my love. For as long as you want to be, you’re mine, always mine.”

Draco whimpered and letting his head fall forward, he rested his forehead on Harry’s shoulder and decided to remain that way until Harry told him otherwise.

As it turned out, Harry didn’t instruct him otherwise but gave him all the time in the world to blissfully drift in his submission, and Draco loved him for it. He needed this as much as he needed air to breathe. It was his way of completely switching off and forgetting about the stress of the day.

* * *

* * *

Harry smiled into Draco’s hair, delighting in its softness as it brushed against his cheek and teased his lips.

“My perfect little prince.”

He whispered sweet words of praise and felt Draco’s knees buckle, and his legs shake.

“Please.”

Draco begged and whimpered, and Harry’s smile grew into a devious smirk.

“Please what, my little prince? What do you want?”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco made a delectable little sound and moving his head slightly, Harry found the side of Draco’s neck. He pressed his lips against the smooth and sensitive skin, then kissed Draco gently. Harry felt Draco hum into his shoulder, and parting his lips even further, he slowly sucked some of the firm and fair skin into his mouth. In response, Draco hummed a little louder. His legs continued to shake.

Harry smiled into his unexpected assault on Draco’s neck and sucking even harder, he added his teeth into the mix, biting down hard enough for Draco to gasp and moan.

“_Ngh_, yes, please, Sir, please.”

Draco’s knees gave in, not completely, but enough for him to slide a few inches down the length of the mirror.

Harry reacted instantaneously.

He pushed his bare leg between Draco’s legs and steadied him that way, making it entirely impossible for him to slide down any further.

“No, my little prince. If you want to submit, then you do as I say when I say it and not as you want to when you want to.”

Harry’s reprimand had the desired effect.

Draco caught his balance, gracefully steadied himself, and slowly lifting his head, he looked at him with a positively needy expression. His beautiful silvery-grey orbs were dark with desire and shimmered with the urge to surrender even further. Harry didn’t need to hear Draco say the words to know that he wanted to kneel at his feet and wanted to be taken by force, but he fully intended to make Draco say it anyway. He also intended to make his little prince beg for what he wanted. Draco wanted to be controlled, and Harry was more than willing to dominate him.

They still had plenty of time before they had to apparate over to Ottery St. Catchpole, and Harry was determined to put every second of it to good use.

He smiled at Draco, and adjusting his hold on Draco’s wrists, he used one hand to restrain both of Draco’s arms, then brought one hand up and caressed Draco’s flushed cheeks. They were a delightful shade of dark pink but continued to edge closer to crimson red, and Harry was really rather pleased about that. He ran his thumb over Draco’s slightly parted lips, applied a bit of pressure, and held Draco’s gaze for several moments.

“Do you want to kneel for me, my little prince?” he teased.

Draco swallowed, the nodded.

Harry clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No, sweet boy, it doesn’t work like that. Must we stop this to go over the rules again? You seem to need an awful not of reminders tonight. Are you distracted?”

Draco shook his head.

“No, Sir,” he whispered.

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced, but he decided not to question the matter for the time being.

“Shall we try again then?” he asked instead.

Draco nodded, and Harry was about to click his tongue again and change his course of action when Draco spoke up.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very well. Tell me then, do you want to kneel for me, my little prince?”

Draco nodded rather enthusiastically, and Harry smiled and caressed his cheek.

“Yes, Sir. More than anything.”

“Hm, is that so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Having Draco’s verbal confirmation that he indeed wanted to kneel at his feet made making him wait for it all the sweeter, and Harry let a whole two minutes go by before he spoke again. He removed his leg from between Draco’s thighs and let go of his wrists, then leant closer, and making sure that his breath ghosted over Draco’s lips, he whispered a single word.

“Kneel.”

He didn’t need to say more. That one word was potent enough, and he watched, mesmerised, as Draco, without hesitation or embarrassment, gracefully sank to his knees right in front of him. He did so without removing his hands from behind his back, and when he went to lower his head in silent surrender, Harry cupped his chin and gently forced him to look up. Draco face was only a couple of inches away from his crotch and since he hadn’t yet put his trousers on, they were still lying on the bed, Harry could feel Draco’s laboured breathing through the thin fabric of his black boxer briefs.

The warm air, caressed his cock and he felt it slowly thicken and lengthen in size as it responded to Draco’s current position, the way he inhaled and exhaled, and the way he looked up at him.

“My precious little prince.”

As the words fell from his lips, Draco’s cheeks finally turned crimson-red, and Harry smiled.

“Beautiful so beautiful. You’re perfect.”

Draco mewled softly, and the already intense desire in his eyes increased tenfold.

Harry let go of his chin and hummed when Draco promptly buried his face in his crotch. He felt him inhale deeply and repeatedly combing his fingers through Draco’s soft blond hair, he massaged his scalp gently.

Draco whimpered.

“Please, Sir.”

He murmured his plea against Harry’s steadily hardening cock, and Harry shuddered. The soft vibrations were most welcome and most pleasurable.

“What do you want, my little prince?”

Harry asked the question without removing his fingers from Draco’s silky-soft hair, and since it was longer than usual, Harry twisted his fingers into the loose strands and tightened his hold a little. He didn’t apply enough pressure to actually hurt Draco, but he certainly used enough force to tilt Draco’s head back and make him look up at him.

“What do you want, my little prince?”

He repeated his question and watched Draco lick his lips.

“Please, let me make you feel good, Sir.”

Harry smirked.

“How?”

Draco swallowed hard.

“I― Please, I want― I want to suck your cock, Sir.”

Harry arched an eyebrow at Draco.

“Do you now?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hm, I think I’d very much enjoy that, my little prince.”

Harry smiled, and while he kept one hand firmly twisted into Draco’s hair, he traced Draco’s lips with the index finger of his other hand, deliberately teasing him.

“How much do you want it, my little prince?”

“Very much, Sir.”

Harry grinned.

He moved his hand to his boxer briefs, and expertly dragging them down just enough to allow his by now fully hard cock to spring free, he wrapped his hand around the thick shaft and guided the tip to Draco’s mouth, baiting him.

Draco attempted to part his lips and wrap them around his cock, but Harry pulled away before he could do so.

“Nu-huh, my little prince. I’m not convinced you really want it. If you do, you’ll beg for it like the good boy you are. You are my good boy, aren’t you?”

Draco whimpered and nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry clicked his tongue and slowly stroked his cock, twisting his fist around it as he moved it up and down.

“Say it.”

“_Ngh_. I am your good boy, Sir. I am.”

“Are you now? Then beg for my cock, my little prince. Beg, and if I’m convinced that you’re sincere I might let you have it. Otherwise I’ll make you watch as I wank and then come all over your face.”

Draco’s cheeks reddened further, and he swallowed hard. It wasn’t often that Harry made him beg for his cock, but occasionally it was thrilling to listen to Draco’s needy whiny voice as he asked to be allowed to suck him off.

“Beg.”

Harry prompted Draco again, purposefully sounding a little more insistent and a lot more threatening. Unsurprisingly, Draco didn’t dare disobey. He didn’t want to either.

“Please, Sir, please let me suck you off. I want to please you, Sir, please, please, please.”

Harry smirked.

“Oh, my sweet little prince, you can do so much better than that. Tell me what you want to do with my cock, and if I like your plans, I might let you have a bit of fun.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco swallowed again, and Harry gave Draco’s hair a bit of a tug.

“Please, Sir, please. I want to wrap my lips around your cock and feel it rest against my tongue. I want to take you deep, and suck you as you pull out, then use my tongue as you thrust back into my mouth. Please, Sir. Please let me take care of you, please.”

“Well, that sounds a lot better, my sweet little prince. Show me a few of your skills. Words are all fine, but I want actions. Open up, pretty boy.”

Draco obediently parted his lips, and Harry slowly eased his cock inside, relishing in the warm wetness.

“Do you like that, my little prince?”

Unable to express himself with words, Draco hummed around his cock and nodded in response.

Harry smiled.

“That’s good. So far, it feels incredible. Now, be a good boy and show me your skills. I’m not just going to blindly let you have a go at it. I want to know it’s going to be good.”

Draco’s low hum vibrated all around his cock, and licking his lips in appreciation, Harry swallowed hard and relaxing his grip on Draco’s hair, he silently gave Draco permission to pull back. Draco applied just the right amount of suction, and letting out a low moan, Harry let Draco press his tongue against the underside of his cock as he pulled back once more, then thoroughly enjoyed the way Draco swirled his tongue expertly around the tip of his cock.

For a few minutes, Harry gave Draco unrestricted access to please him as he wished, then he combed his fingers through Draco’s hair, twisted them tightly into the soft strands and tugged, forcing Draco to stop.

“Not bad, my little prince. But I have a little something else in mind. Do you want to know that?”

Draco licked his lips and nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

Harry gently caressed his cheek, using his fingertips and featherlight touches to offset the tight hold he had on Draco’s hair.

“Very well, I will tell you then, my love, just remember, you can say no, OK. Do you understand that, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Good boy, you’re really quite perfect, do you know that, my sweet little prince?”

Draco smiled shyly.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Naw, look at you, my sweet darling, gone is all that sass, and all that’s left is my perfect little prince. You’re on your best behaviour tonight, aren’t you, my love?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. Now, let me tell you what I want. It’s really quite simple. I want to own your mouth, I want to claim it, and I want full control. Let me fuck your mouth, my gorgeous little prince. Tell me, do you consent?”

Harry observed Draco’s reaction to his words carefully. His first response was a small gasp, his second was his eyes widening, and his third was a bout of mild trepidation appearing all over his face. Harry continued to caress Draco’s cheek softly and gave him a few seconds to consider his request.

He watched the way Draco swallowed and momentarily relaxed his grip on Draco’s hair.

Instead, he repeatedly combed his fingers through it, and gently massaged Draco’s scalp, knowing it would help to keep him calm and relaxed. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked Draco for the right to be a bit rough with him, and even though their contract stipulated that he was allowed to fuck Draco’s mouth, he always made sure to ask first, knowing that Draco wasn’t always in the mood for that type of blowjob.

“You can say no, Draco, remember that.”

Draco nodded, then shook his head immediately afterwards.

“No, I mean, yes. Thank you, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

It was a warm and soft smile, and Draco reciprocated it.

“I consent, Sir,” he whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry’s smile grew into a wide grin.

He leant down and placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s lips.

“You’re perfect, my sweet little prince, just perfect.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco made that delectable soft sound again, and his blush intensified.

“Precious, just precious,” Harry whispered.

“Let me have my wicked way with your sinful mouth, my little prince.”

In response to those words, Draco simply parted his lips and opened up for him.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat and as he once more curled his fingers into Draco’s hair, twisting them around until he had a firm and unrelenting grip, he guided his cock to Draco’s mouth and slowly pushed inside.

He paused about halfway in, let a few seconds pass, then pulled always all the way out, then repeated the deliberately slow thrust several times over. Draco adjusted to the slow pace, pleasuring him with his lips and tongue and thoroughly coating every inch of his cock with deliciously warm wetness. Every now and then he hummed softly, and the vibrations slowly but surely set Harry’s groin on fire.

He quickened the pace, and ensuring that Draco couldn’t move his head away, he repeatedly thrust into his mouth, sliding deeper and deeper each time.

“Ngh, you’re perfect, my little prince, just perfect. You’re so good for me, letting me have you like this.”

The sweet praise had a profound impact on Draco, and as he swallowed around Harry’s cock, he blinked rapidly, clearly trying to stop the tears from falling. Harry knew that his little prince was neither hurt nor upset, he could tell just by looking at him, and watching how he acted, but the words had most definitely moved Draco, and touched him deeply.

“Hm, yes, my little prince, just like that. Let me have your mouth, let me fuck your gorgeous perfect sassy mouth. I want it all. I want to own it, just like I own you, my sweet boy.”

A single tear rolled down Draco’s left cheek, and as he briefly closed his eyes, two more followed. Harry gently wiped them away and caressed Draco’s flushed face with the greatest tenderness. Compared to his rough thrusts, his soft touch was a stark contrast, and he could tell that Draco had a bit of difficulty focusing on either one. Harry was sure that Draco’s mind kept flitting from one to the and back again and he loved the fact that Draco consented to this, that he let himself be taken in such an aggressive way, while at the same time revelling in the sweetness of Harry’s unusually light touch.

It wasn’t much longer until Harry could feel the beginnings of his orgasm. Its tendrils reached out from the centre of this groin and slowly spread through the rest of his body. He felt hot and excited, and the tightness in his groin became nearly impossible to bear. He fucked Draco’s mouth a little harder still, and shortly after, Harry slowly started to give in to the intense pull of his approaching orgasm.

He resisted it for a while, wanting to draw things out just a little bit longer, but even when taken like this, Draco was perfect. He knew how to please, and pleasure and Harry didn’t stand a chance. It wasn’t long before his orgasm properly took hold of him, and surrendering to the intensity of it, Harry tensed and thrusting deep into Draco’s mouth, he stayed there for a split-second, nearly forcing Draco to gag, then pulled away enough to give Draco the chance to swallow the first white-hot streak of his come.

Several more followed, and Draco managed to swallow them all. He didn’t spill a single drop, and once Harry had given him every last drop, he used one hand to tug himself back into his boxer briefs, then dropped down onto one knee, and cupping Draco’s face, he kissed him deeply, tasting himself on Draco’s very red and very swollen lips. He could also taste himself inside of Draco’s mouth, but it only made him kiss Draco harder, and so much more possessively.

He didn’t break away until they both struggled to breathe properly, and even then, it was a grudging and forced separation.

Harry hastily gulped down a lungful of air or two, then tried his best to smooth out Draco’s hair. Unsurprisingly, he’d managed to make a complete mess out of it.

“Are you OK, my little prince?”

Draco nodded.

He coughed a little, then spoke.

“I’m OK.”

His voice sounded gruff and husky.

Harry smiled.

“How’s your throat?” he asked.

“Alright,” Draco rasped.

“You sound delightful, my love.”

Draco smiled.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m ever so pleased with you, my little prince. I didn’t expect this, but this was a very welcome little surprise. Thank you for being so perfect.”

Draco flushed, and his cheeks turned crimson.

Harry kissed him again, though this time, it was a soft and tender kiss. It was the kind of kiss that was full of love, and trust and one little silent message: _I’ll take care of you, always_.

“How are your knees, my love?”

Draco shuffled a little, grimaced briefly, then relaxed.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered.

“Good. Do you think you’ll manage to go to the bathroom to freshen yourself up? I promise I’ll be dressed and ready to go when you come out, but we’ll have a quick snuggle on the sofa before we leave, OK?”

Draco nodded.

A beaming smile appeared on his face and unable to resist, Harry kissed his forehead.

“You’re such a sucker for love,” he teased.

Draco pulled a face.

“I’m not. I’m a sucker for your love. Massive difference.”

Harry chuckled.

“Still a sucker,” he said. “In every sense of the word.

Draco growled and glowered at him, but made no attempt to make any sort of sassy remark, and smiling, Harry carefully helped him up and walked him to the bathroom door.

There, he kissed Draco, then opened the door for him, and motioned for Draco to enter.

Draco grinned.

“You are the perfect gentleman, Sir Harry.”

Harry laughed.

“Always, my little prince.”

* * *

* * *


	15. Hot, Hotter, Treacle Tart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, this chapter took me a couple of days to finish, due to a busy work schedule, some redecorating, a very annoying delivery guy, my horrid gym, and general tiredness. Let's not mention the thirteen rewrites I made in an attempt to get this right.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Harry watched as Ron rolled his shoulders, then slowly but deliberately raised his arms above his head and allowed himself a luxurious stretch.

As Ron lowered his arms again, he casually placed one hand low on Hermione’s hip, and while leaning closer to her and kissing her cheek, he gave it a gentle and affectionate squeeze.

Hermione neither yelped nor told him off for ‘_inappropriately showing his fondness_’ for her in front of their friends, something she’d often done when they’d been much younger and before they’d tied the knot.

These days, though, she rather enjoyed all of Ron’s affections and even reciprocated with small acts of love of her own.

Harry observed his friends’ quiet moment of intimacy with a fond smile, then focused on Draco, who had thrown all of his attention into folding his white paper napkin into a beautiful origami swan.

Due to the softness of the napkin, the task proved to be more challenging than usual, but despite that, the movement of Draco’s fingers remained quick and light, exuding a certain level of skill.

Draco considered it somewhat of a hobby and often folded origami animals, especially birds and dragons while brooding over one of his cases. According to him, it helped him to keep his mind on developing a suitable strategy prior to the start of a new trial.

Harry himself had tried to learn how to fold a simple origami bird but for some strange reason, and although Draco had been extremely patient with him, his fingers refused to do his bidding and he’d failed to create anything that had even the tiniest liking to a bird. It had amused Draco a great deal and he'd teased him about being so good with ropes yet so utterly useless at something as simple as folding papers, and they'd bickered back and forth until Harry had pulled Draco into a fierce kiss and after that, talking hadn't been quite so important anymore.

Feeling thoroughly relaxed and happy, Harry leant back in his chair and grinned to himself. Dinner had been absolutely fantastic, and his and Draco’s earlier impromptu play meant that he was still on a high.

What with his elated mood, he couldn’t quite resist the temptation to contemplate surprising Draco with a little gift once they got home later tonight. He wanted to ensure that Draco went to sleep feeling just as floaty as he had all evening, and he didn’t need to rack his brains for very long before the perfect plan started to form in his mind.

_Yes_, he thought, Draco would most definitely enjoy and appreciate that.

Pleased, and feeling mighty proud of his idea, Harry stretched his legs out under the table, and crossed them at the ankles, placing the right ankle on top of the left one. He then moved his left arm to rest on the back of Draco’s chair and casually but repeatedly brushed his fingertips against the outside of Draco’s upper arm, drawing his little prince’s attention.

At the unexpected and gentle touch, a small tremor surged through Draco, and his nimble fingers slowed down, then stopped folding the paper napkin altogether. He slowly turned his head sideways, and Harry immediately decided that Draco’s smile was precious.

His second thought was, _mine, mine, mine, all mine_.

The expression in Draco’s bright silvery-grey eyes was just as exquisite, and Harry needed to make a conscious effort to stop himself from drowning in those crystal-clear orbs.

Even though well over two hours had passed since he and Draco had played, Draco’s eyes still shimmered with the remnants of his earlier submission, and it was a beautiful sight to behold, one Harry could hardly get enough of. He genuinely cherished Draco’s openness towards him and that he never deliberately concealed anything.

Well, except for these past few days.

Since Monday, Draco had been acting relatively strange, and although Harry had felt tempted to sit him down and question him about his behaviour, he’d decided against it.

Something was most definitely going on, but whatever it was, Harry wanted to see it play out before he acted ― he was too curious to get his answers by asking a few simple questions.

Besides, at this point in time, he wasn’t especially worried. Draco seemed neither depressed nor overly preoccupied. Yes, he was a little distracted, and he was acting a little strange, much like he was trying his hardest to keep a secret.

If he was, Harry didn’t want to ruin the surprise for him by making it obvious that he was on to Draco.

“I love you.”

Harry mouthed the words rather than actually saying them, and Draco’s smile grew broader.

A light pink tint graced the pale skin of his cheeks, and he momentarily averted his eyes, then looked back and blinked very slowly.

For some reason, the expression reminded Harry of a thoroughly content cat that, after having lapped up a plate of kitten-friendly cream, was in a state of peaceful happiness. He briefly considered telling Draco, but then remembered what had happened the last time he’d been bold enough to compare Draco to a cat.

In response to what should have been a sweet compliment, Draco had left a five-page-long entry in his journal, outlining every single imaginable reason why he and cats had absolutely nothing in common.

Harry smirked at the memory and chose to keep his musings to himself. At least for now.

However, he did make a mental note to change his tactic and decided that the next time he and Draco discussed how much Draco sometimes looked and acted like a fluffy grey tabby cat, he would tie Draco up first, and gag him too. Physical restraints and the inability to use his words to defend himself were bound to have the desired effect, and Harry was rather looking forward to having his wicked way with his little prince.

When Draco parted his lips to respond to his earlier declaration of love, Harry swiftly leant forward, and closing the small gap between them, he pressed his lips against Draco’s.

He lingered for a few seconds, savouring the taste of Draco’s lips, then slowly pulled away and was delighted to find Draco grinning from ear to ear, much like a Cheshire cat.

_Yet another good reason to silence and restrain you, then compare you to a cat_, Harry mused.

“Earth to Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!”

Hermione’s sharp reprimand pierced right through Harry’s bubble of bliss, and he just about managed not to jump out of his skin. Her abrupt tone could, at times, be a little frightening.

Instead, he turned his head and arched an eyebrow at Hermione.

She gave him a thoroughly withering look, though not because he and Draco had been completely lost in their own world and shared a kiss at her dining table, but because she’d clearly exerted a fair amount of effort trying to get them to listen.

“Sorry, yes. You have my full attention. What is it?”

Harry straightened up a little but didn’t remove his arm from the back of Draco’s chair. Rather than continuing to caress Draco’s upper arm, he placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. Any excuse to touch Draco.

Hermione shook her head, but the small smile that caressed the corners of her mouth told Harry that she wasn’t at all furious with them. It just so happened that the two things she hated the most in life were being ignored and having to repeat herself, which she considered being a waste of her time. She also wasn’t a massive fan of having to fight for someone’s attention. Ron lavished her with it, baby Rose was enamoured with her mother, and as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, wizards and witches alike treated her with a certain level of respect. Especially once she'd successfully reversed all the ridiculous decrees her predecessor had put into place.

“Somehow, I’ll highly doubt that, but let’s just pretend it’s the truth,” she said.

Harry tried to appease her with his warmest smile.

She merely gave him a pointed look; the kind that said: _Really, Harry? You ought to know me better by now._

Although he’d known Hermione long enough to know it was in vain, he attempted good old-fashioned flattery.

“Dinner was fantastic, Mione, thank you.”

She shook her head again and laughed.

“While I’d love to take all the credit for tonight’s meal, I can’t. If you want to commend someone for it, my husband deserves all the praise and then some.”

Ron, who stood next to Hermione, but had so far remained quiet, blushed a bit.

Harry frowned.

“Ron?” he asked.

Ron shrugged.

“Mam’s been teaching me for a while now, and I thought I’d give poisoning you all a go,” he said. “Mione made the chocolate pudding though, I asked her to. You know she makes the best one.”

This was Ron’s way of quite deliberately downplaying his wife’s ploy to get him the accolades he so clearly deserved. Dinner had been exceptional; Ron had most definitely outdone himself, yet he pretended that it was nothing and promptly changed the subject.

Harry grinned.

Some things never changed.

Ron absolutely had a bit of a praise kink and loved a pat on the back and a couple of kind words for his efforts, but he wasn’t the type of guy to ever admit that he liked that sort of thing.

Harry glanced at Draco, who was trying to keep his lips pressed firmly together in a somewhat futile attempt to suppress his amusement.

Hermione rather firmly poked Ron’s side with her elbow, then sneaked her arms around his waist and snuggled into him.

Despite his obvious but mild annoyance over having been, albeit playfully, physically assaulted by his wife, Ron’s reaction was instinctive. He wrapped both arms around Hermione’s shoulders and pulled her against his chest.

In return, she made no attempt to wriggle free, and Harry smiled. Seeing his two friends so obviously in love, made him thoroughly happy.

When Draco suddenly spoke up, he turned his head, looked at him and listened attentively.

“Somewhat off-topic, but please satisfy my curiosity. How is it that you manage to balance two full-time jobs, a baby, quality time _and_ time with friends and family? I mean, Harry and I do a decent job at making time for each other, but occasionally we do struggle, and we don’t have nearly as much on our plates.”

Ron grinned.

“I’ve two magic words for you, Malfoy. _Nana Molly_,” he said.

Hermione chuckled.

“Ron’s right, she helps a lot, but my since my husband is clearly being the epitome of humbleness tonight, which I find worrying. Let me clarify a couple of things. You both know that Ron’s schedule is a lot more flexible than mine, so I’ve put him in charge of organising all our social engagements.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you mean to say I’ve _taken_ charge, my love? You were talking about having Harry and Draco over for weeks, and even though you and Harry work in the same bloody building, I practically had to threaten you with a whole month’s worth of Howlers to get you to leave your desk for long enough to pop by his office and invite him.”

Hermione lifted her head and pursing her lips, she looked up at Ron and frowned.

“I’m not _that_ bad, though I still don’t understand why we’re having this dinner in the middle of the week, but never mind. However, you best not forget that you owe me a bottle of wine. After all, you promised.”

Ron chuckled.

“You’re _worse_, darling, but not to worry, I love you no matter what. And I won’t forget, I’ll get you that bottle of red on Friday.”

“How very kind of you, Ronald Weasley, but you’re still truly incorrigible.”

Ron winked at his wife.

“You knew that before you married me, yet you still signed on the dotted line, _and_ had a child with me.”

“Yes, on occasion I do still question whether either one of these decisions was a truly sane one.”

Draco shook his head, disbelievingly.

“How long have you two been married now?” he asked.

“It’ll be our tenth anniversary in two years,” Ron replied.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t you just say it’s eight years?” he asked.

Harry noted that Draco sounded somewhat exasperated.

Ron shrugged.

“Dunno, ten sounds better,” he said.

“You know, it sounds like we’ve accomplished something big.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Weasley. If you’re not careful; she’ll dump you before you can plan the dinner party to celebrate your ninth anniversary,” Draco scoffed.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at Draco’s derisive undertone.

There was something about Draco’s playful snide that got him every time. It was also part of the reason why he hardly ever told Draco to rein in his sass.

At hearing his amusement, Draco turned his head to look at him, and Harry felt the mild shudder that surged through his little prince, though this time it wasn’t a shudder fuelled by excitement, but one that clearly expressed Draco’s displeasure over the direction into which this conversation headed.

“I was going to say they bicker like an old married couple, but they actually are an old married couple,” Draco drawled.

In the space of several seconds, he’d somehow managed to replace the derision in his voice with slight boredom. It wasn’t the kind of bored drawl that expressed annoyance, but the sort of lack of enthusiasm that was, strangely enough, more endearing than irksome.

Harry felt the corners of his mouth curl upward.

He flashed Draco a broad grin, then laughed out loud.

It was precisely then that Hermione chose to include herself in the conversation again.

“As if you two don’t bicker like that, and it’s been what, a little over two years!” she said.

“Which reminds me, I really do think―”

Harry felt Draco tense, but before his little prince had the chance to react, Harry swiftly moved his arm and placed his hand on top of Draco’s thigh, squeezing it firmly.

The gesture instantly drew Draco’s attention, and he moved his own hand closer to Harry’s but didn’t immediately place it right on top, leaving it up to Harry to do so.

Harry appreciated the small submissive gesture and without hesitation, he took Draco's hand. He didn’t need to look at what he was doing to be able to find the pulse point on the inside of Draco’s wrist. Once he'd sought it out, he gently tapped it with his thumb, and applying a bit of pressure, Harry started to circle the sensitive spot slowly, knowing the effect it would have on Draco.

It took less than a minute for Draco’s tension to ease, and Harry felt him start to relax.

Despite the immediate positive impact of his touch, he didn’t stop what he was doing but kept running his thumb over the inside of Draco’s wrist, slowly and evenly drawing hoop after hoop after hoop.

“Mione, any chance of a post-dinner cup of coffee?” Harry asked, pointedly changing the top of the conversation altogether.

Hermione nodded, then sighed.

“Sorry, I got side-tracked. I meant to ask you whether you want coffee or tea with your dessert. That was the whole reason why I was trying to get your attention anyway.”

Harry smiled.

“Coffee, definitely coffee,” he said. “Draco?”

“Hm?”

Draco turned his head and looked at him.

His expression was somewhat dazed, though it was most definitely not because Harry kept circling the inside of his wrist.

Harry gave Draco a lopsided sort of grin.

“Coffee or tea, my love?”

Draco nodded his head.

Harry frowned, then smiled.

“I’m afraid ‘_yes_’ isn’t the right answer to an either-or question, my love,” he said quietly.

Draco blinked.

It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts, then he nodded and answered the question.

“Erm, coffee, please.”

“Right, it’s too late for me to drink coffee, I’ll have tea,” Hermione said.

“Ron, you?”

“Same,” he replied with a grin.

“You know that, Mione.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Doesn’t hurt to check, even when one is married to a die-hard tea drinker,” she said.

“Right then, a kettle of tea and a pot of coffee. I’ll get on that. Ron, please sort dessert.”

“Sure.”

Hermione smiled and balancing on the tips of her toes, she tilted her head up, silently requesting a kiss from her husband.

Ron grinned and willingly obliged, giving his wife exactly what she wanted.

Satisfied, she extracted herself from his embrace, and when she walked off to the other side of the kitchen, to put the kettle on and ready the coffee machine, Ron’s eyes automatically followed her. He gave her an appreciative once-over. His gaze lingered for several moments, then he cleared his throat, and with a slight pink flush gracing his cheeks, he turned his attention back to the dinner table.

“Why don’t you two go ahead and make yourselves comfortable in the living room? Mione and I will join you with drinks and dessert shortly.”

Harry nodded.

“Sounds good,” he said.

Getting to his feet, he stretched a little, then laced his fingers through Draco’s and pulling him up, he pulled him straight into his arms.

“Just so you don’t feel left out,” he teased.

Draco rolled his eyes at him but made no attempt to wriggle out of his embrace, and deciding to try his luck, Harry pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s temple.

“My little prince.”

Harry murmured the words against Draco’s skin so quietly that Ron had no way of understanding whatever he’d just said to Draco. In response, Draco melted a little further into his embrace. When he felt a slight shiver surge through Draco, Harry squeezed his hip firmly, showing just a little possessiveness, and for a second or two, he wished they were home alone at Grimmauld Place.

He really wanted to kiss Draco, and he wanted it to be a fiercely proprietorial sort of kiss. The kind of battle of the tongues he could use to push Draco down onto the bed, then climb on top of him and spend the next hour or so kissing him thoroughly senseless while he let his hands roam freely, exploring every inch of Draco’s body.

“Before you completely jump your man, are you having the chocolate pudding or the treacle tart?”

Ron’s question distracted Harry momentarily, and reining his thoughts in, he looked at his best friend, he gave him a pointed look. The kind of look that said ‘_I did not appreciate that comment_’, but Ron being Ron entirely ignored his wordless reprimand.

“Weasley, what kind of idiotic question is that?”

Ron grinned and shrugged.

“Just making sure. We all know you get iffy when others make decisions for you. Director Potter always needs to be in charge, even when he’s not on the clock.”

Harry snorted with laughter.

If only Ron knew.

He was sure his friend would think twice about making those sort of mocking comments.

“Sometimes I think you’re a complete nutter. Treacle tart and that goes without saying.”

The moment he’d made his choice, Draco squeezed his arm and said his name. His voice was low, and his tone soft. Compared to the iron grip, Draco currently had on his forearm, it was a stark contrast.

Harry ignored it, not because he wanted to, but because it did unspeakable things to his sanity.

“Hm?”

He turned his attention away from Ron and smiled at Draco, who instantly averted his eyes and stared at the floor.

He spoke without lifting his gaze.

“Maybe you should have the chocolate pudding. Hermione made it, I’m sure it’s superb.”

Harry wasn’t sure why Draco, entirely out of the blue, was trying to change his mind, but the attempt lacked a certain kind of Malfoyesque persuasiveness and charm. It was a half-hearted ploy, nothing more and nothing less.

Draco could do so much better than that.

When he really wanted something, Draco could be exceptionally compelling.

Shaking his head in mild confusion, Harry couldn’t help but note the strange look Ron gave Draco.

It was a mixture between a glare and a frown, and it made absolutely no sense to Harry.

It did, however, spark his curiosity further and he couldn’t help but wonder whether his earlier sixth sense had been right.

Something was most definitely going on.

Still, for the benefit of everyone involved, he decided to continue to play along and pretending that he didn’t have a clue, he responded to Draco’s mad suggestion.

“I always choose a slice of treacle tart over Hermione’s chocolate pudding, my love. She’s never once complained or been offended.”

“Just this once? I’m sure she’ll be happy.”

Harry smiled at Draco’s insistence and squeezed his hip again, then raised an eyebrow at Draco, who’d finally looked up but still wasn’t looking directly at him.

“How odd, anyone could think you didn’t want me to have treacle tart tonight, my love.”

In response to Harry’s indirect question, Draco remained silent, and even though Harry tried, Draco also continued to refuse to meet his eye.

“Right then, one slice of treacle tart with warm custard for you, Harry, and chocolate pudding for the rest of us then,” Ron said.

Harry nodded.

“Yup.”

Ron spun around and walked off, and as he did, Harry focused on Draco, who looked like he wanted to say something, but after a few minutes of hesitation, he simply pressed his lips together tightly together.

A strange sort of expression appeared on his face, and his eyes sparkled with something that looked a lot like regret. It didn’t make much sense, and it unsettled Harry a little.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco nodded.

“Just a bit tired,” he said quietly.

Harry hugged him a little tighter.

“Early night for you then, my love, I'll put you to bed just as soon as we get home. Come on, let’s go into the living room and commandeer the sofa. If you like, you can have a cuddle.”

Draco gave a non-committal shrug, and turning away, he wordlessly left the large country kitchen and headed down the hallway of Ron’s and Hermione’s two-storey cottage.

A moment later, he disappeared inside the living room.

Furrowing his brows, Harry stared after him with mild disbelief.

Draco was acting thoroughly peculiar, and there didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to it.

The offer of a cuddle, especially post-play and no matter how long or short said playtime had been, always excited Draco.

This was the first time in two years, Harry had seen him act so blasé about it.

Feeling somewhat confused, and finally also a tiny bit worried, Harry followed Draco out of the kitchen, and when he entered the living room, he couldn’t help but smile.

Instead of sprawling out on the sofa, Draco had sat on the floor in front of the sofa. There was a soft rug beneath him, and he appeared to be quite comfortable with his chosen seat.

_My sweet little prince_, Harry thought fondly and crossing the room, he sat down on the large brown leather sofa. He made sure that his lower leg pressed up against Draco’s upper arm, and watched Draco curl his socked feet into the crocheted rug’s many tassels. Draco aimlessly toyed with the napkin, he had yet to fold into an actual origami swan.

Harry gently placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

“Will you look at me, please, my little prince?” he asked.

He made sure to keep his voice soft and gentle, but he injected just a hint of authority.

Not much, just enough to get Draco’s attention.

Just a tiny dose of _The Voice_.

It worked.

It always did.

_The Voice_ always spoke to Draco.

Given their relationship and their mutual preference for a less than average set of power dynamics, the sound of Harry's voice connected with Draco on a different level, especially whenever Harry made a request _and_ used his pet name.

It roused the part inside of Draco that didn’t want to resist, the one that found freedom in his surrender.

Harry knew that.

Draco stopped fidgeting with the paper, and slowly lifting his head, he let it fall backwards and looked up at him.

Harry responded with a warm smile.

“Are you dropping a bit, my love?” he asked.

He needed to be sure.

Draco shook his head.

“Just tired,” he mumbled, repeating his earlier excuse.

Harry frowned.

He didn’t buy it.

“If you’re sure,” he said.

“Hm.”

Draco hummed his response and placing the half-finished origami swan on the coffee table next to him, he stretched his legs out, then abruptly got to his feet.

“Excuse me for a second. I need the loo.”

Harry nodded.

“Sure thing.”

He watched Draco leave the room and shook his head.

_Tired my arse_, he thought.

He knew what Draco was like when he was tired, and this was not it.

This was something else altogether.

Tired Draco liked cuddles, wanted love, a lot of it, was a bit needy and yawned a lot.

Getting more comfortable on the sofa, Harry tried to relax into the cushions and looking around the room, he smiled. He loved Ron's and Hermione's living room. It felt like home. The mantelpiece above the fireplace was lined with a large assortment of photo frames. There was a photograph of Ron, Hermione, and him, taken about a year and a half after the war, and photos of Hermione with her parents as well as Ron with his parents and also with his whole family.

Above the mantelpiece was a large portrait of Ron and Hermione, taken at their wedding, and underneath the picture were several smaller photos of baby Rose. They ranged from the day she was born to a magical photo of her taking her first few wobbly steps.

Harry smiled.

Ron and Hermione’s living room was just as cosy as his own. It, too, had a TV. There were two large bookshelves filled with books. A third bookshelf, mounted to the wall across from the sofa, was lined with yet more photographs. Most of these were holidays photos from Ron’s and Hermione’s honeymoon, but there were also a few from other, random trips.

One of the photographs showed the three of them fooling around in the deep snow in Canada, having a snowball fight. Harry was sure that it had been Charlie who had taken that photograph for them and as his eyes drifted over the countless photos, some Muggle, and some magical, Harry vowed to frame more pictures of himself and Draco and place them around the house. He wanted to give Grimmauld Place the same homely feeling and rather liked the idea of visual reminders of his and Draco's relationship.

Apart from a large number of photographs and books, Ron’s and Hermione’s living room had a very homely feel to it. The Burrow had undoubtedly influenced the décor, but it didn’t feel like Molly had waltzed into the house and taken charge of everything. She’d crocheted the pillowcases and two large matching blankets, as well as the tasselled rug, but that was about it.

The most significant difference between his and Draco’s living room and Ron’s and Hermione’s living room was that Grimmauld Place was always exceptionally clean.

Here at the cottage, Rose’s toys littered the floor on the far side of the room, and her playpen had replaced the table with Ron’s Wizarding Chessboard and the two comfy chairs he’d purchased for it.

As far as Harry remembered, the table was now in Ron’s study, but he couldn’t be sure.

He also didn’t need to be, for his friends chose precisely that moment to walk into the living room.

Hermione was the first.

She’d drawn her wand and was levitating a large tray with a teapot, a coffeepot, and a set of four matching mugs and saucers, as well as all the cutlery for the desserts.

Ron followed her, carrying a second tray with four plates. Three of the places had chocolate pudding on it, and one had a rather large piece of treacle tart on it.

It came with a separate bowl of warm custard.

Hermione levitated her tray over to the coffee table and expertly setting it down, she pocketed her wand, then sunk into one of the nearby armchairs.

Ron set his own tray down as well, then slumped into the armchair across from his wife and stretched his legs out.

Harry grudgingly sat forward again and watched as Hermione poured him a cup of coffee.

Black, no sugar, no milk.

Just as she handed it to him, Draco returned from his trip to the bathroom.

He still didn’t look like he was entirely at ease, but Harry chose not to question his behaviour in front of their friends. Instead, he pretended like he hadn’t noticed that Draco deliberately dithered in the doorway for a few seconds before stepping across the threshold.

When he did finally enter the room, he chose not to sit back down on the floor. Instead, he sat down on the sofa next to Harry, and when Hermione handed him his cup of coffee, he smiled and thanked her politely.

A moment later, his eyes fell onto the dessert tray, and his expression darkened visibly.

Harry caught the glowering scowl, Draco gave the treacle tart, and smirking into his coffee cup, he shook his head lightly.

“You know, my love, one slice of treacle tart isn’t going to make me fat, in case that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

Draco’s head spun around so fast that he nearly spilt some of his coffee, and he looked at him with a deep frown.

“I know that,” he said.

There was a defensive sort of undertone to his voice.

Harry grinned.

“Good to know.”

He took a few sips from his coffee and watched Ron hand Hermione her plate with chocolate pudding, and it was only after she’d accepted it, that Ron reached for his own.

Draco, on the other hand, didn’t touch his dessert but quietly sipped on his milky coffee.

Harry watched him for a while, then answered one of Hermione’s work-related questions and asked Ron about a new product, he and George were planning to launch soon.

A few minutes filled with amicable conversation passed, but Harry couldn’t fully concentrate.

He was thoroughly distracted by the fact that Draco kept staring at his chocolate pudding but didn’t lift it off the tray.

Shaking his head, Harry sat forward and setting his cup down on a matching saucer, he took the plate with chocolate pudding and handed it to Draco, who frowned at him.

“Here, enjoy,” Harry offered.

“Hm, thanks.”

Draco slowly put his coffee mug down and accepted the sweet treat, but still didn’t eat it, which was highly unusual.

“Have you miraculously decided to go off chocolate?”

“Hm, what? Nonsense, don’t be an idiot, Potter.”

“I’m not. It’s just that normally chocolate of any kind doesn’t last more than two minutes around you.”

Draco turned his head sideways and fixed him with an icy glare.

“I think we both know that I have a whole lot more self-restraint than that, Potter.”

Harry grinned.

He was pleased that at least part of the Draco he knew had returned. If the sass was, everything else would follow soon after.

“Do you?”

“Eat your tart, Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“Eat your pudding,” he said.

Ron rolled his eyes at them.

“For Merlin’s sake, both of you eat your dessert already, especially you, Potter.”

“Me?” Harry asked.

He reached for his treacle tart, a spoon, and the bowl of custard and placed everything in front of him.

Strangely enough, an extremely gleeful expression appeared on Ron’s face while Draco looked like he was on the verge of having a panic attack.

Harry shook his head, and dipping his spoon into the custard, he treated himself to a full mouthful of the delicious creamy dessert, then washed it down with a sip of coffee while Draco finally ate a tiny bit of his chocolate pudding.

Tempted to ask whether Draco felt too stuffed from dinner, Harry delayed his first bite of tart for another few moments.

Ron still looked like he was about to explode with excitement, though Harry wasn’t sure why, and Draco had gone paler than pale. He listlessly played with his dessert.

Harry shrugged and using his spoon to help himself to a rather large piece of his treacle tart, he finally sampled his favourite dessert.

The second his teeth sank into the soft and sweet pastry, everything finally made perfect sense.

Ron’s exceptional, yet entirely unfounded, happiness and extreme excitement had been fuelled by the desire to get him back for last week when he'd turned Ron's butterbeer into vinegar.

Draco’s weird, and half-hearted, attempt to stop him from eating his dessert had been fuelled by a healthy dose of fear after he'd clearly realised that what he'd initially considered a good idea wasn't such a good idea at all.

Pulling a disgusted face, Harry spat the treacle tart right back onto his plate and fanned his mouth, but it was too late for that action to bring him any sort of relief.

The taste of spicy chilli hot sauce spread, like wildfire, through his entire mouth, gradually setting it on fire and numbing all his other taste buds at the same time.

He tried to swallow, but that only seemed to make things ten times worse and reaching for his coffee, he hastily gulped down several sips of the hot liquid. Unfortunately, the temperature only increased the spice-fuelled burn in his mouth.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed and putting the plate down, he continued to fan his mouth, this time with both hands.

He could feel the tears prick at the corners of his eyes and blinking furiously, he tried to discourage them from falling but failed, and they promptly ran down his cheeks.

For some reason, the fact that he was crying only increased the burn inside his mouth and continuing to fan himself, Harry actually felt his body temperature temporarily rise a degree or two.

While he started to sweat, Ron dissolved into hysterics, laughing uncontrollably.

Hermione looked completely confused, and Draco scrambled to put his mostly untouched dessert down and reaching across the table, he grabbed the small pot of milk and offered it to Harry, who, despite not being able to see clearly, managed to grab hold of it without spilling it all over the place.

He inhaled deeply, felt another wave of sweat break out all over his body and quickly downed most of the milk inside the pot.

The bland drink with its slightly sweet taste felt smooth and rich and it successfully masked some of the fiery hotness raging inside his mouth. Taking his glasses off, Harry wiped his tears away and coughed. He cleaned his glasses with a wandless spell, then put them back on and glared at Ron, then looked sideways at Draco, and clicked his tongue in obvious disapproval.

Draco instantly averted his eyes and stared at the floor.

“Why on earth would you two deliberately mess with a man’s favourite dessert?” he asked.

He gave the uneaten slice of treacle tart a withering look, then finished off the last bit of milk, and was pleased to note that the chilli-fuelled burn inside his mouth slowly started to die off.

Harry didn’t mind spicy food, but that had been decidedly too spicy, even for his liking.

“_Ngh_, bleurgh, disgusting. Mione, control your husband, won't you? He’s a despicable joker. I’ll deal with Draco myself,” he said.

Crossing his arms over his chest in complete annoyance, Harry shook his head.

“I knew you two were up to something and let me tell you something, I’m not amused,” he said, already planning his revenge.

Ron would soon receive a surprise parcel per Owl delivery and Draco, well Draco needed to give him consent first, but Harry had no doubt that his little prince wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

* * *

* * *


	16. Regret Is An Evil Master Indeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems, following the last two chapters, a few of you are of the opinion that Draco deserves a spanking or perhaps even a more severe form of punishment.
> 
> I disagree.
> 
> It would be wrong of Harry to retaliate with any form of physical punishment. Draco regretted his decision to partake in the prank before it even happened, so going ahead with a punishment like that would impact on his mental health negatively and while he'd accept his punishment, he wouldn't be able to process it. At some point, it would come back to bite both him and Harry in the arse and I can assure you a fallout like that can, under certain circumstances, end a D/s relationship rather quickly. As a sub you've got to be able to trust your Dom(me) not to take it too far and once there's an inkling of doubt there, it'll fester and grow and the result of that can (and will) be catastrophic.
> 
> Punishments should only ever given when a sub deliberately crosses a line or breaks the rules, and even then context must always be taken into account, as well as the sub's present mental health. Furthermore, punishments must also always fit the crime and in this particular instance, a spanking, or any other type of physical punishment, would most definitely not fit the crime. It would make for a delightful read, I'm sure of that (I would love to read and write such discipline scene), but realistically it wouldn't make sense.
> 
> Right, I'm now going to get off this soapbox and let you get on with this new chapter while I drop dead until tomorrow morning. I'm utterly exhausted.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Sometime later that night, and after they’d returned to Grimmauld Place, Harry came out of the en-suite bathroom, dressed in comfortable black silk pyjamas, to find Draco stood beside his side of the bed, clutching his pillow.

It was a special memory foam type of pillow, Harry had bought for him at a Muggle department store a couple of months ago, to ease the strain on Draco’s neck, an unfortunate by-product of long hours spent pouring over legal documents, books and case files.

Draco looked pitifully sad and disheartened.

“I’ll just go sleep in the guestroom,” he mumbled.

He had to force the words out of his mouth, and even though his voice was low and monotone, there were obvious cracks to it.

His breath stuttered, and he struggled to swallow past what Harry presumed was a big lump that was stuck somewhere in the top part of his throat.

Harry instantly abandoned the idea of dragging the duvet back, climbing into bed and pulling the thick, heavy covers up to his nose.

Instead, he turned around to look at Draco.

His slouched posture, hunched shoulders, and downcast gaze tore at Harry’s heartstrings. He hated seeing Draco like this, so full of remorse for what he’d done and visibly afraid to meet his eye.

Ever since the treacle tart incident earlier tonight, Draco had barely said two words and Harry knew that neither one of them would be able to sleep before they’d talked things over.

“And why would you do that, my love?” Harry asked.

A few moments of silence past, then Draco demurely answered his question.

“I’m quite sure you don’t want me in your bed tonight.”

Harry swallowed a sigh, and taking a step closer to Draco, he gently placed two fingers underneath his boyfriend’s trembling chin and coaxed him into lifting his head.

“Draco, look at me.”

Keeping his voice low and soft, and injecting a healthy dose of warmth into it, Harry applied a bit of pressure, and after resisting him for close to a minute, Draco finally lifted his head and bit his lower lip, continuously gnawing on it. His lashes were slightly damp and his silvery-grey eyes watery.

They were full to the brim with unshed tears.

Harry knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that by the end of the conversation, he and Draco were about to have, those beautiful and expressive eyes would be red, swollen, and puffy, and that streaks of tears would soon be running down those pale, sunken cheeks.

Without removing his fingers from underneath Draco’s chin, Harry smiled softly, hoping to reassure Draco.

“This is our bed, and I’ll always want you in it, no matter what. I absolutely do not want you to sleep in the guestroom, unless that is what you want, in which case I won’t stop you, but I will need an explanation before I let you go.”

Harry briefly contemplated cracking a silly joke to lighten the mood but decided against it when Draco looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. His lashes fluttered, then he closed his eyes and let out an anguished wail.

A moment later, he fell to his knees and bowed his head.

Harry hadn’t expected that particular reaction, but he trusted himself enough to be able to handle the situation.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so―”

Draco choked on his fourth _sorry_, and Harry could tell he was trying his hardest to fight back the urge to cry.

_Not for much longer_, Harry thought.

That flood of tears was going to fall one way or another, and there was next to nothing Harry could or wanted to do to stop that from happening.

Harry crouched down and wordlessly pulling Draco into his arms, he hugged him tightly.

“You needn’t apologise, my little prince, there is absolutely nothing to apologise for. I can take a joke. It was a prank, nothing more and nothing else. Yes, it was mean, but it was a prank, and you’re allowed one of those every now and then, and without having to fear that I’ll invoke my right to turn your behind gleaming red.”

Draco sniffed into his chest and mumbled something entirely incomprehensible.

Harry frowned.

“What was that now, my love?”

Draco lifted his head, and pulling out of his embrace, he sat back on his haunches, still hugging his memory foam pillow to his front.

“You should punish me, Sir,” he whispered with a creased forehead and dejected expression, “you should spank me, Sir. I deserve it. I was naughty and bad.”

Harry pressed his lips together to suppress a chuckle but couldn’t entirely conceal his amusement.

“Is that so?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Would a spanking make you feel better, my little prince?”

Draco nodded again and resumed biting his lip.

His chin still trembled, and he looked troubled.

Harry continued to speak.

“You know, I highly doubt that. While you might think that me bending you over my knee and smacking your behind a few times is going to make you feel better, I can guarantee you that you’ll feel worse tomorrow morning, and it won’t be because you’ll have to spend the day sitting on two thrumming and throbbing arse cheeks.”

“But―”

Draco choked out a single interjection, but Harry cut him off before he had the chance to continue.

“No, Draco, please believe me. I’ve been playing this game a little longer than you have. You do not deserve a spanking. Your guilt is already eating you up from the inside. You're far too harsh on yourself, my love, and I really do need you to realise that. Tell me, when have I ever punished you this cruelly for anything, hm?”

Draco parted his lips but didn’t say anything.

He just stared at him with glossy silver-grey eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Harry reached out and pressed the palm of his hand to the side of Draco’s face, then gently traced the line of his high cheekbone with the tip of his thumb.

“Regret is an evil Master, is it not?” he asked.

Draco nodded mutely, then hung his head.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“No, look at me, please, my love.”

When Draco did not lift his head, Harry took the pillow from him and tossed it onto the bed, then shuffled closer and pushing his fingers under Draco’s chin, he lifted it up.

This time, Draco did not resist him but obeyed his silent command.

“Can you tell me why you’re so upset?”

Draco responded with a question of his own.

“Why are you so forgiving?”

Harry smiled.

“I told you. It was a prank, nothing more and nothing less, and I can take a joke.”

“But it was mean, you said so yourself.”

Harry chuckled.

“So is telling me to fuck off when I remind you that you forgot to buy milk.”

“You did spank me for that.”

Harry grinned.

“I did, but as I recall, you rather enjoyed that particular spanking, or did you not, my little prince? Did I imagine all those little gasps of pure pleasure when I kissed your lips, nipped at your neck and slowly pulled your trousers down, then bent you over the kitchen table and made you stretch your arms out above your head? You were nearly begging me for it long before I brought my hand down on your arse.”

Draco’s cheeks pinked a little, and he averted his eyes.

“You’re not new to this anymore, Draco. You’ve got a fair bit of experience, and you know the difference between a playful spanking to arouse us both and a few deliberate blows to your arse to remind you what happens when you cross a line.”

“I did cross a line with that prank.”

Harry smiled.

“You’re a petulant little prince tonight. Fine, I’ll let you have this one, yes, you did cross a line.”

“Then punish me for it. I deserve it.”

Harry shook his head.

“Absolutely not. You’ve already punished yourself enough, and entirely unnecessarily if I may say so. There’s no need for me to add anything to it to make you feel even worse about pulling a wicked little prank.”

“But―”

Draco made another futile attempt at arguing his case, but Harry simply placed a single finger across his lips and silenced him.

“No, Draco, no. If you want a spanking you can always ask for one, and if I feel that you’re mentally capable of enjoying yourself, I’ll be more than happy to invite you up to the playroom where we can indulge in a bit of fun; however, I’m not going to dish out punishments that are neither necessary nor appropriate.”

“But I consent.”

Harry smiled.

Draco’s stubbornness was thoroughly endearing, but it wasn’t going to persuade him to break his own rules and go against his beliefs of what was right and wrong. There were times when physical punishments were extremely useful in teaching a submissive a lesson, and there were times when it was the worst thing a Dom could do to his sub. Tonight and Harry was confident about that, spanking Draco was the worst thing he could possibly do.

Placing the palm of his hand on top of Draco’s heart, Harry applied a bit of pressure.

“You might think that you want me to punish you, and your mouth may say so, but deep down in here, you don’t want me to spank you for what you did. Besides, if I really spanked you for what you did, I’d have to spank Ron too, or it wouldn’t be fair, and somehow, I don’t think he or Hermione would consent to that.”

The hint of a smile appeared on Draco’s face, but it was gone within the blink of an eye.

Harry removed his hand from Draco’s cheek, and ran his fingers through Draco’s soft blond hair instead, massaging his scalp softly.

“I’ll meet you halfway, my little prince. A verbal reprimand is all you’re going to get. Listen carefully.”

Draco forehead furrowed and he looked at him with wide questioning eyes.

Harry continued to smile.

“Sweet boy, next time you decide to prank me, please do me a favour and don’t team up with a Gryffindor who runs a joke shop together with his older brother. We both know that you’re a whole lot more cunning than my best mate and I’m pretty sure Salazar Slytherin would turn in his grave if he knew that this is how you honour his legacy.”

Draco’s brows furrowed further.

“You’re half a Slytherin yourself, you’ll see right through anything I’ll come up with.”

Harry chuckled.

“Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Either way, yet more of an incentive for you to give it your best shot, don’t you think?”

Draco sighed softly.

“I’ll never match your level of deviousness.”

Harry grinned.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my little prince. I think you have it in you, it’s just that you don’t really want to be devious.”

“I prefer it when you are wicked, you do it so well.”

Harry laughed.

“Then leave the wickedness to the Master and just enjoy the ride, my little prince,” he said.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s marvellously soft hair and resting his hand at the back of Draco’s neck, he applied a bit of pressure, then pulled Draco into a tender kiss.

It was soft and sweet, and Harry hoped that it was also reassuring. He could sense that Draco had relaxed a bit, but he also knew that given that Draco had managed to convince himself that he absolutely deserved a punishment, it would take a while before all of his tension and anxiousness disappeared completely.

“Do you think we might be able to continue this conversation in bed? I know you enjoy kneeling for me, and I cherish your gift immensely, but I would prefer it if we could curl up in bed. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you all night long.”

Draco hummed softly and inclined his head.

“Please,” he whispered.

“Thank you, my little prince.”

Harry got to his feet again, stretched a little and returning Draco’s pillow to its rightful place, he reached for one corner of the massive duvet, and pulled it back.

“Climb in, my love.”

Draco shuffled and grimacing a little, he slowly got to his feet and crawled into bed.

Harry followed suit, and pulling the bed covers over them both, he moved to the centre of the bed and wrapping his arms around Draco, he pulled him into a tight embrace, enveloping him with all four of his climbs.

Draco curled into him, deliberately making himself small. He buried his face in Harry’s chest and exhaled slowly. Harry smiled and let his hand slip underneath Draco’s shirt, and squeezed his hip and his side gently before running his fingertips teasingly up and down Draco’s spine.

He felt Draco relax even further and kissing the top of his head, he inhaled deeply, breathing in Draco’s familiar scent of bergamot, blackcurrant, juicy apples, and zesty lemons.

“I want to kiss you, my little prince.”

Draco hummed in response to his request and shuffling a little, he tilted his head up and looked at him.

Harry smiled.

“My little prince.”

Harry murmured the words into the tiny gap between his and Draco’s face and hugging him a little tighter, he pressed the palm of his hand to the space between Draco’s shoulder blades.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

Draco parted his lips as if to respond to his compliment, but Harry shook his head.

“No, hush, I don’t want you to talk, my little prince, don’t say anything.”

Draco blinked and remained silent.

“Sweet boy.”

Pleased with the level of Draco’s obedience, Harry continued to smile. He pressed a loving kiss to Draco’s forehead, a butterfly kiss to the tip of Draco’s nose and a lingering one to Draco’s soft, lush lips.

Draco tilted his head a little, giving him better access, and silently inviting him to continue with the kiss. Harry gnawed a little, playfully toying with Draco’s bottom lip, then added a bit of suction, claiming both of Draco’s lips.

Draco’s body was a perfect mixture of firm and soft and thirsty for more, Harry closed his arms tighter around him and kissed him deeper. He felt Draco’s rush of helplessness as he surrendered to being held and being kissed and relished in the surging warmth of Draco’s body against his own as he clung to him as though he was presently the only solid thing in their intimate little bubble.

Insistent, Harry used his tongue to pry Draco’s slightly shaking lips apart, slithered inside the warm wet haven that was the inside of Draco’s mouth, and delighted in the way his little prince tremored in his embrace, evoking his desire to take things further still.

Giddy, Harry pushed Draco onto his back and eased on top of him.

Draco’s legs fell open for him, and Harry slid in-between, thrust forward and continued to kiss him hungrily, fuelled by the wish to silence Draco’s self-destructive thoughts for the night. He wanted Draco to know that he was loved and cherished and that no amount of pranking would ever change that. While he genuinely didn’t appreciate the fact that Ron and Draco had spiked his favourite dessert with hot sauce, he failed to be genuinely upset and angry with them. It had been a joke, a bit of nonsense between close friends, and the very last thing Harry wanted was for Draco to feel bad about is role in the prank.

Banishing his thoughts, Harry concentrated on the kiss, losing himself in the incredible sensations of sharing a special moment of intimacy with Draco, something that was so familiar yet never precisely the same.

He let his hands roam over Draco’s naked and warm skin, feeling it heat, quiver, and tremble beneath his exploring touch and when Draco slowly raised his arms above his head, Harry pushed his shirt up and took it off. He reluctantly broke the kiss for the two seconds it took to pull the suddenly offending garment over Draco’s head, then carelessly tossed it aside. As he resumed their heated battle of the tongues, Harry ran his fingers up the entire length of Draco’s arms and laced their fingers together before Draco could grasp the headboard. He squeezed tightly and pressed Draco’s hands into the pillows.

Draco arched his back and rolled his hips, and in direct response, Harry thrust his hips. He felt Draco’s erection grow between them and his own cock instantly reacted to the apparent arousal.

They settled on a lazy rhythm and perfect mixture of thrusts and slow and deliberate hip-rolling. Draco moaned into their kiss and very slowly breaking away from the deep and possessive kiss, Harry trailed wet kisses along Draco’s jawline and peppered his neck with tiny nips, bites, licks, and kisses. He gnawed at Draco’s earlobe, exhaled hotly and revelled in the full-body shiver that surged through Draco.

“I love you, my precious little prince.”

The tender words dragged a delicious mewl from Draco’s parted, lush red, and kiss-swollen lips and Harry attacked them again, ferociously claiming Draco’s mouth in an intensely arousing kiss.

He rolled his hips, Draco arched his back, and he thrust down, then kissed harder and deeper before withdrawing to cover Draco’s throat with a million tiny kisses and also a few bites. Draco swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbed delightfully, and Harry continued to kiss him, covering his entire chest with licks, and tiny bites. He toyed with Draco’s nipples, biting and sucking them, then thrust his tongue into Draco’s navel and kissed it with as much fierceness as his mouth.

Draco’s black boxers, the ones Harry had charmed to spell out that Draco belonged to him, didn’t last much longer and once Draco was completely naked, Harry pushed the bed covers down to the bottom of the bed and told Draco that he intended to kiss every inch of him.

In response, Draco moaned and whimpered and spread his legs that little bit more. In the dim light of the lamp on Harry’s nightstand, he was a blurry mess of deliciously pale flesh, and licking his lips, Harry made good on his promise.

Draco writhed and thrashed beneath him, moaned and whimpered, and by the time, Harry pushed two well-lubed fingers past the tight ring of muscles around Draco’s entrance, he was a sweaty, incoherent mess, incapable of telling the difference between up and down and left and right.

Harry gave him a few moments to cool down, but continued to slowly push his fingers into Draco and pull them out again.

At some point, Draco clenched around them, huffed out a shaky breath of air, and curled his fingers around the headboard, gripping it tightly.

Harry kissed him fiercely, claiming his parted lips with everything he had to give and then some.

He grudgingly paused just long enough to take off his own clothes, then took Draco’s leg and grasping it right behind his knee, he squeezed the pale flesh and pushed Draco’s thigh right up to his chest, spreading him that little bit further open. He covered his achingly hard prick with a generous amount of lube, and pushed into Draco with one long thrust, deliberately splitting him open.

Draco threw his head back, groaned, and trembled as he momentarily struggled to process the intense burn, but Harry gave him enough time to adjust before he nearly pulled out and thrust back into him.

He kept the pace slow, and unhurriedly but repeatedly claimed Draco for himself.

Draco surrendered beautifully, gasped and panted, and Harry kissed him, devouring his mouth with wild abandon.

He pried the fingers of Draco’s right hand away from the headboard, squeezed his hand tightly and possessively held on to Draco’s leg.

They kissed until they were both too breathless to carry on, and Harry moved Draco’s hand between their sweaty bodies, whispering against his lips to stroke himself.

Draco wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked himself with the same speed that Harry drove into him.

He also told Draco to look at him, and when Draco’s forced his eyes to open fully, an incredible and intense jolt zapped through Harry, pulling a long groan from the depths of his belly. He gripped Draco’s leg hard enough to bruise, and thrust into him, claiming all of that tight and narrow passage for himself.

“My sweet little prince, you’re precious and perfect, and I love you.”

A wretched sob tore through Draco, and he stared up at him, open-mouthed, gulping for a breath of air, with a perspired, blotchy face and his hair in complete disarray. It was damp and stuck out in all four directions, and Harry smiled.

“Let it out,” he whispered.

A swell of tears spilt over the rim of Draco’s eyes and rolled down his flushed cheeks.

“I love you.”

Harry deliberately reaffirmed his feelings for Draco and another flood of tears followed the first.

He thrust into Draco and smiled.

“Mine.”

Draco choked and blinked furiously.

“You’re everything I ever wanted, Draco Malfoy.”

“Harry.”

Draco forced his name out between his lips, and a third wave of tears ran down his cheeks.

Harry kissed them away, then told Draco that he would dry all of his tears for as long as Draco wanted him to do so.

“Forever,” Draco gasped.

Harry smiled.

“Forever it is, my sweet little prince. I promise, forever.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco sobbed a little harder, and Harry kissed him, swallowing both, his cries and his salty tears and revelling in having permission to do so.

“I want all of you, always.”

He murmured the words against Draco’s lips and thrust harder and faster.

“Mine, all mine, my beautiful, perfect little prince.”

Draco choked on a half-sob, half-chuckle.

“You forgot silly,” he breathed.

Harry grinned.

“My silly, sassy, sexy, sly little prince. There, how’s that?”

Draco responded with a moan, arched his back, and tilting his head back, he exposed his neck.

Unable to resist, Harry sank his teeth into the fair skin, biting down hard.

Draco groaned, and Harry sucked strong enough to bruise the skin and leave a very prominent mark. Draco howled in pain and to distract him, Harry dug his nails into his leg and spread him open until his thigh muscles burnt.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Draco huffed out the word, and Harry claimed his arse with a harsh thrust, burying himself balls-deep inside of Draco.

He growled possessively against Draco’s neck.

“Mine.”

Draco whimpered.

“Yes.”

“Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“_Ngh_, you’re precious.”

Draco groaned, and Harry resumed snapping his hips forward and fucking into him.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to last for much longer and could sense that the same applied to Draco.

Gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts, he felt Draco stroke himself harder and faster to match his pace and claiming Draco’s mouth in a fierce kiss, Harry felt the muscles in his groin tighten in preparation for his orgasm.

Tremor after tremor surged through him and pulling away from the kiss, he locked eyes with Draco, who did his best to keep his own open as he nearest his climax.

“Come for me, my sweet little prince, come for me, come now.”

Harry huffed out his prompt and Draco groaned.

He stroked harder still, and soon enough, Harry felt him clench around his cock, making it almost impossible to continue thrusting.

“Come for me, my precious.”

He encouraged Draco one more time, and that was all the incentive, Draco needed. He came on a guttural groan and he spilt rope after rope of his come between them. Harry felt most of it splash against his abdomen, and smiling, he sank his cock all the way into Draco, buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, and allowed his orgasm to rob the last bit of his sanity.

Afterwards, he gently eased out of Draco, rolled off him, and spooning around him, he held him tight and charmed the duvet to cover them both. He mumbled a half-hearted cleaning charm to remove some of the stickiness from the sheets, pressed a kiss between Draco’s shoulder blades and pulled him as close against his own body as he possibly could.

He closed his eyes and drifted for a while, but opened them again when Draco whispered his name.

“Harry.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“That was fucking incredible.”

Harry chuckled.

“I agree. Better than a spanking too.”

Draco turned into his arms.

A contend glow had replaced his earlier disheartened expression and Harry kissed his lips softly.

“You’re not going to continue to be this soft with me, are you?”

Draco whispered his question against his lips.

A low rumble of laughter escaped Harry and pulling back a little, he focused on Draco.

“Do you prefer me tough, my little prince?”

Draco flushed a little, blinked, and pulling his bottom lip into his mouth to gnaw on it, he nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

Harry shook his head.

“No, say it. I want to hear you say those words.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco’s blush intensified, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

Harry clicked his tongue and used his thumb to free Draco’s bottom lip.

“Say it,” he whispered again.

Draco parted his lips, hesitated for a moment, and a shudder surged through him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I prefer you tough, Sir.”

He breathed the words rather than actually speaking them, and Harry smiled.

“Look me in the eye when you tell me what you want, my little prince.”

Draco shivered but slowly opened his eyes and focused on him.

A few moments of silence, filled with anticipation, passed, then Draco repeated himself.

This time he didn’t close his eyes, and Harry’s stomach flipped upside down.

“I prefer you tough, Sir.”

Harry smirked.

He had the perfect idea for an extremely devious plan.

If Draco wanted to experience a stricter version of himself, Harry more than willing to give his little prince a taste.

“How tough?” he asked.

Draco dithered for a few seconds.

“You make all the rules?”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.

“All of them? I thought TPE terrified you…”

Draco’s cheeks turned crimson, and he coughed, then cleared his throat.

“It does.”

“Then why are you asking me to make all the rules?”

“Just for a while?”

Harry considered Draco’s request for a few minutes.

“I’m too tired to give you a definite answer tonight. Give me until the weekend to think it over. I don’t do half-baked post-sex plans.”

Draco nodded.

“M’kay.”

“But I do have a little request for you.”

“You do?”

Harry smiled.

“Yes. As always, you can say no.”

“What is it?”

“I want tonight’s orgasm to have been your last.”

Draco swallowed hard.

Harry saw a flicker of trepidation in his eyes and kissed him gently, offering reassurance.

“How long?” Draco asked quietly.

“Two weeks.”

Draco gasped, and his eyes widened.

Harry chuckled softly.

“Two weeks are a piece of cake for you, my little prince. I’ve a surprise for you, but for it to work, I need you to be a bit desperate.”

Harry could tell that Draco was both excited and terrified. He often made Draco wait for it or denied him, but most of the time, he allowed Draco to come after he’d had his wicked way with him. The longest he’d recently made Draco wait for an orgasm had been five days. It had been a long time since he’d asked for anything more than a few days.

“Tell you what, my love, think about it and tell me tomorrow evening. OK?”

Draco nodded.

“Hm.”

“Remember, you’re free to say no. When I ask you for your decision tomorrow, I want an honest answer. If I feel that it’s not something you really want to do, I won’t accept your consent.”

“I know.”

Harry smiled.

“Good boy.”

He pulled Draco a bit closer and pressed his lips against Draco’s, kissing him softly.

“Let’s sleep. It’s late.”

Draco snuggled into his embrace and Harry drew a series of intricate knotting patterns onto his back, coaxing him into the land of dreams. A mumbled _Nox_ turned the lights in the bedroom off, and blinking, Harry tried to adjust to the darkness that settled all around him. He could barely make out Draco’s shape, but he could feel him, and as such, he didn’t mind that he couldn’t see him. Shuffling a little, he adjusted the position of his pillow, then inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes.

Silence settled all around him, and Harry felt himself grow weary.

It had been a long day, and while tonight’s conversation had been exhausting, he was glad that Draco had given up on the notion of punishing himself.

_That’s my job, my little prince_, Harry mused, with a contented smile.

* * *

* * *


	17. Let's Talk It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit of time to finish, mainly due to tiredness, so I'll keep this note blissfully short, upload the chapter and go to bed instead.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Harry stopped one step short of crossing the threshold to his and Draco’s living room, but instead of entering the room, he casually leant against the doorframe. Pushing his hands into the deep front pockets of his favourite pair of jeans, Harry quietly observed Draco for a few minutes. He silently took in all of him, what Draco wore, the way he held himself, the way he looked, and even how he breathed.

At the moment, Draco was unable to remain still.

He kept fidgeting, getting up and sitting down again, curling his bare toes into the shaggy rug beneath his feet, and wringing his hands together, then resolutely twisting them apart once more.

His eyes darted around the room but didn’t settle on anything, and although Draco did look at him, mutely acknowledging his presence, his gaze only lingered for a few seconds. He then he averted his eyes, focused on the fireplace, and sighed deeply.

Harry smiled.

Not because it pleased him to see Draco all fidgety and nervous or because he liked the idea of knowing that Draco’s mind wasn’t at ease and that he didn’t feel calm.

No, none of that.

Harry smiled simply because he felt a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction.

He’d worked extremely hard on getting to know all of Draco’s moods.

Every single one of Draco’s emotional states had its own little tell, and over the past two years, Harry had tried his best to keep a close eye on Draco to identify and learn them all.

He still made the occasional mistake, it was a given really since nobody was perfect, but usually, his predictions about Draco’s frame of mind were spot on.

During a scene or kinky playtime, it helped him to gauge how close to reaching his limits Draco was, and in everyday life, Harry used those all those little tells to discern whether to be a bit more dominant or whether to loosen the reins and pull back for a while.

It didn’t often happen that Draco got _this_ nervous about something as simple as a conversation, even if the discussion revolved around negotiating kinks or a scene, they were both interested in doing, but Harry could understand why his little prince was so flustered.

A couple of days ago, Draco had asked him to be tougher, had even hinted at wanting to try something that resembled a total exchange of power for a limited amount of time, while Harry had asked him to consider to completely surrender all control over his orgasms for an entire fortnight.

According to their current contract, he owned all of Draco’s orgasms, and even though Draco was allowed to wank, if he wanted to, he had to ask permission first.

Over the last year, Draco had asked him for permission exactly twice. Not because he didn’t like to pleasure himself, but because they’d a very active sex life and Harry seldom gave Draco a reason to feel sexually frustrated.

Both times, Draco had asked him to be allowed to have a wank, Harry had been away on business for a few days, and he’d happily consented to Draco having a bit of fun on his own, though not without making a request of his own.

The first time Draco had asked, he’d told him to write about the experience in his journal, ordering him to be as detailed as possible.

The second time Draco had asked, Harry had fire-called him at home and told him to kneel in front of the fireplace in their bedroom. He’d then made him edge himself until Draco, his cock achingly hard, had breathlessly begged him to be allowed to come.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of saliva. The memory of that night made his cock twitch in excitement, and he hastily stopped to reminisce. He was about to have an important conversation with Draco, and the very last thing he wanted to have to deal with was a throbbing erection.

Initially, he’d given Draco twenty-four hours to consider whether he wanted to consent to two weeks of extreme orgasm denial, but when the time had come for Draco to tell him what he’d decided on, he’d not been able to do so.

Draco’s nerves had thwarted his plans, and instead of putting any sort of pressure on him, Harry had given him more time to think things over carefully. He’d also offered plenty of reassurance and a lot of tender loving care.

Even though they’d yet to discuss things in detail, Harry had, _repeatedly_, made it one hundred per cent clear that Draco’s decision was final. Still, he could tell, without the shadow of a doubt, that the conversation they were about to have terrified Draco. Harry only needed to take in Draco’s current demeanour to come to that conclusion. He also had pretty good idea why his little prince was so on edge, and it wasn’t because he’d asked Draco to consent to a short dry spell. Draco never came without permission; he was extremely good at obeying that rule.

The reason for Draco’s inner turmoil was rather simple. He’d had asked for something and then realised that he’d bitten off far more than he could chew.

Harry smiled.

It was time to put Draco’s restless mind at ease and dispel all of his fears.

Without moving any further into the room, Harry called Draco’s name softly.

“Draco.”

Draco immediately responded to the sound of his voice.

He spun around and looked at him, with his beautiful silvery-grey eyes wide open, then shifted his body weight from one foot to the other and back again.

“Come here, please.”

Harry continued to keep his voice soft and gentle and pushing himself away from the doorframe, he took one small step forward, but otherwise waited to Draco to come to him.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

The voice worked like a magnet; it always did, though only because Draco want it.

It gently influenced Draco, persuading him to obey and honour Harry’s polite request.

Unwilling to ignore the potent lure of the voice, Draco slowly approached him, and once he stood right in front of him, Harry pulled his hands out of his jeans pockets and showed Draco his open and upturned palms.

“May I have your hands, please?”

Draco looked at him, nodded, and placed his hands in Harry’s.

With a smile, Harry expertly clasped his fingers around Draco’s hands, squeezed, then sought out the pulse points on the inside of Draco’s wrists. He pressed his thumbs against them, then drew slow and steady circles. More than two years had gone by since he’d first used this technique on Draco, and it still worked like a charm.

“Relax, my love. We’re just going to have a conversation about a couple of things. I won’t judge you for your choices, you know I’d never do that. I won’t force you into anything you’re not ready for either, and I will respect that there are things you do not want to do, you know that. If it’s not what you want, my love, then it’s not what I want. We’ve had plenty of these conversations, and you know there’s nothing, nothing at all, to be afraid of.”

Draco swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, I think I just worked myself up a bit over the past few days.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“You think?”

He wordlessly pulled Draco closer, and wrapping his arms tightly around him, Harry attempted to crush him in the best possible way.

A strong hug, given in the right moment and by the right person, could do wonders to one’s mental state. Caleb had taught him that a very long time ago, and Harry valued that piece of advice, treasured it more than anything. During and after play, especially an intense session, it was such a simple yet powerful way of offering unconditional support, and elevating pain or worries.

Draco huffed out a soft breath of warm air.

Harry smiled against the side of his face and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and down the entire length of his spine.

_I’ve got you, my little prince_, Harry thought, _and I’ll always have, for as long as you want me to_. He hoped that Draco would want him forever, and although he wasn’t worried about Draco changing his mind about their relationship anytime soon, he wasn’t the kind of person who took someone’s affections for granted. He cared deeply about Draco’s feelings for him and soothingly whispered into Draco’s ear, telling him exactly that.

In response, Draco shuffled in his arms and buried his face against his neck.

Harry heard and felt him inhale deeply.

It seemed like he was deliberately trying to take in his scent and cover himself with it at the same time. It was Draco’s way of silently drawing strength from him, though he seldom did it quite this extensively when they were at home.

It was more of a coping mechanism when they were surrounded by people, and a hug was all Harry could offer Draco in terms of physical comfort. The odd time that an innocent hug wasn’t possible, he always made sure to find a way to take Draco’s hand and pull it behind his back.

He usually pressed their linked hands firmly into the small of Draco’s back, and while everyone around them was none the wiser, he was able to offer Draco the comfort he needed. It worked exceptionally well when they were both wearing their robes as it was just so easy for Harry to slide his hand underneath Draco’s long black robes, grasp his hand, and, unbeknownst to everyone around them, alleviate Draco’s distress.

Harry didn’t rush Draco but patiently allowed a few minutes of comfortable silence to pass between them. It was only when Draco shifted in his arms and attempted to pull back, that he slowly relaxed his hold and released Draco.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Much, thank you.”

Harry smiled.

“Any time.”

“I think I’m ready to have this conversation.”

Harry reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair out of Draco’s face. He let his hand rest on the side of Draco’s neck and using his fingertips, he located Draco’s left jugular vein. Applying a tiny bit of pressure allowed him to feel the steady pulsing flow of blood against his skin, and gently caressing Draco’s jawline, he leant in and pressed a tender kiss to Draco’s pale-pink lips.

“I know you are, my little prince.”

Knowing the vibrations would send a pleasant tingle through Draco, Harry whispered the words against his lips and smiled affectionately.

He pulled back and casually dropped his hands to his sides.

“Where do you want to have this conversation, my love?”

“What are my options?”

Harry chuckled.

“Any room in the house, really, but if you want, I’ll happily give you a few to choose from.”

Draco considered the offer for a moment.

“Give me three options?”

Harry nodded.

“Alright, no problem. The playroom, right here, or the kitchen.”

Draco made his choice instantaneously, deciding without the slightest amount of hesitation.

“The kitchen.”

“Alright,” Harry said, “but you’re in charge of making us some coffee.”

“No problem. Are you going to get some biscuits from the pantry?”

Harry laughed.

“The hidden place?”

A bright gleam appeared in Draco’s silvery-grey eyes, and they sparkled with giddy excitement.

He nodded.

“Yes, please.”

Harry grinned.

“Sure, anything to satisfy your sweet tooth,” he said.

He took Draco’s hand and laced their fingers together.

Together, they made their way into their warm kitchen, and while Draco pottered about the familiar space, retrieving two large mugs from one of the hanging cupboards and readying the coffee machine, Harry walked into the pantry. He closed the door behind him, and magically unlocked a hidden press, he’d installed just after Draco had moved in for good. It was full to the brim with Draco’s favourite chocolates, biscuits and other sweet treats.

Smirking, Harry contemplated for a few minutes, then settled on a packet of chocolate chip and walnut biscuits, and taking it out, he magically sealed the press again, ensuring that Draco wasn’t able to open it. For the charm to work, one had to draw an ancient rune in a particular corner of the cupboard’s door, as well as cast a spell, and Harry was always made sure that Draco didn’t accidentally see the ancient rune or heard the incantation.

Cross the pantry, there was another shelf with sweets, filled with stuff Draco bought for himself whenever they went shopping, but there was hardly anything there to choose from. It wasn’t because Draco had eaten all of those sweet treats already, but because he preferred it when Harry gave him his sweets. According to him, they tasted better. Harry thought it was complete nonsense, but because he loved Draco, he turned a blind eye and humoured him. Even though he never denied Draco his sweets, he delighted in the fact that his little prince had to ask him for permission before he was able to enjoy a bit of chocolate or a biscuit or three. It was a small act of submission on Draco’s part, and Harry truly cherished it for the gift it was.

With the packet of chocolate chip and walnut biscuits in hand, Harry re-emerged from the pantry, and using magic to shut the door behind him, he found Draco waiting for him beside the kitchen table.

He’d prepared two cups of steaming hot coffee and a plate of clementines.

Harry smiled.

He made his way over to Draco and leaning in, he squeezed Draco’s hip and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, my love. You didn’t have to wait to sit down.”

Draco’s cheeks pinked a little.

There was a bashful look in his eyes, and he smiled shyly.

“I wanted to, Sir,” he said.

His voice was soft and barely louder than a whisper, but to Harry, it was enough, and his heart fluttered in his chest. He felt fiercely possessive of Draco.

“Of course, you did, my perfect little prince.”

Draco hummed.

Harry handed him the packet of biscuits.

“Let’s sit down, my love.”

Not wanting Draco to wait any longer, Harry took his seat, and reaching for his coffee, he lifted his mug up and brought it to his lips.

Inhaling deeply, he watched Draco over the rim of his cup and waited with his first sip until Draco had sat down and opened the biscuit packet. Right this moment, it was more important than coffee, and Harry knew as much.

“Acceptable choice?”

Draco took a single biscuit out of the packet, dipped it into his coffee and then munched on the soggy cookie.

He grinned and nodded.

A childish sort of excitement sparkled in his eyes, and the butterflies in the pit of Harry’s stomach rose and sored up, flitting about madly.

“More than acceptable.”

“I’m glad.”

Harry took another sip from his coffee and smiling, he waited for Draco to finish devouring a second biscuit.

“Ready to talk?”

Draco inclined his head.

“I think so,” he said, mumbling the words rather than speaking loud and clear.

“Good, but before we start, you know that this is just a chat. I want to know how you feel about what I’ve asked of you, and I’ll tell you how I feel about what you asked of me, and then we’ll try and find common ground. This is about making sure that whatever happens leaves us both fulfilled. It’s not about me making demands and you following blindly because you think it’ll please me, you know that, don’t you?”

Draco nodded.

“I do.”

“Excellent. Just keep that in mind, okay?”

Reaching out, Harry placed his hand on top of Draco’s and squeezed it gently.

“Will you please tell me how you feel about me putting you through a bit of a dry spell?”

Draco sighed softly.

He toyed with his coffee cup, and Harry squeezed his hand once more.

“If I agree, you’re going to be really devious, aren’t you? You’re going to edge me, but you won’t let me come, and you’re going to tease me and make me beg for it, but you still won’t let me have it.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“You know me so well, my little prince. Yes, I absolutely will be devious and I will edge you and tease you, it’s what I always do, don’t I?”

Draco huffed out a breath of air.

He reached for another biscuit, but instead of taking a bite from it, he drank a bit more coffee.

“You do love driving me to the brink of insanity, making me really desperate for it, however, if I said I didn’t enjoy it, I would be lying.”

Harry smiled.

He gave Draco’s hand a light squeeze, then pulled back and reaching for a clementine, he slowly peeled the skin off and halving it, he pushed one of the carpels into his mouth and chewed it.

“I would like to amend my offer from a few days ago,” he said, “so, instead of denying you completely for two weeks, I would like to offer you the option of an orgasm at some point during those two weeks, but you will have to be a really good boy in order for me say yes, and let you come.”

Draco shifted on his chair and toyed with his coffee mug.

“Obey all the rules?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“Yes, everything outlined in our contract, but if you decide that you want to do this, I will give you a couple of extra rules on top.”

Draco remained quiet for a few moments and Harry gave him the time he needed to think and process.

“You mentioned a surprise, something for us to do, I presume.”

Harry smiled.

“Yes. Yours and Ron’s little prank gave me the idea for it, though I don’t intend it to be a punishment, you know I won’t punish you for what you did, but rather a bit of titillating fun, something a little bit out there.”

“A scene then.”

Harry smirked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me more?”

“You said you miss bickering with me. Well, I thought a roleplay scene might give you the perfect excuse to really go for it.”

“What kind of roleplay?”

Harry caught a glimmer of intrigue in Draco’s eyes but didn’t acknowledge it in any way. He didn’t want Draco to feel pressured into making a decision based on openly showing his desire to learn more.

“Hm, well, petty thief, tough copper. Or in wizarding terms, dealer of illegal wizarding artefacts versus Director Potter.”

The spark in Draco’s eyes intensified and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I like it. What would the scene entail?”

Harry deliberately finished his clementine first, then answered.

“Me apprehending you, you spewing fire over it, then attempting to bribe an officer of the law for which I will punish you severely.”

Draco swallowed hard.

“How severely?”

Harry chuckled softly.

“Let’s just say a very sore arse will most definitely be involved. Perhaps a toy or two. And restraints.”

“Where will we play? Upstairs?”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, but not inside the playroom. I’ll fix up two of the guestrooms.”

“Two? Why two?”

Harry grinned.

“My office and a holding cell,” he said with a wink.

He reached for his coffee, slowly brought the mug up to his lips and watched Draco blush. His cheeks turned crimson red, and he shifted again, though not because he was uncomfortable, but because of his rising excitement. Harry could tell that Draco was trying to conceal some of it, but he really wasn’t doing a very good job at being inconspicuous about it. Or perhaps he didn’t want to be.

“You’re actually going to lock me up?”

Harry chuckled and nodded.

“That’s what one usually does with a thief who attempts to bribe the Head of the Auror Department.”

Draco exhaled audibly.

“Fuck me,” he mumbled.

Harry smirked.

“With pleasure, my little prince, just as soon as we’re done talking. Although, it’s been a few days since I spanked you good and proper so if you want me to fuck you, you’ll have to allow me the pleasure of making your behind glow bright red first.”

Draco swallowed hard.

He went to reach for a biscuit, but his hand shook so badly that he stopped halfway and pressed the palm of his hand against the wooden table between them.

“My knees,” he whispered.

He sounded just a little breathless.

“Feeling a bit weak, aren’t we, my little prince?”

Harry deliberately teased him a bit.

Draco nodded slowly.

“Mindfuck,” he mumbled.

Harry arched an eyebrow at him.

“Which part of the conversation exactly?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“All of it, Sir, and you know it.”

Harry smirked but purposefully continued to play a bit dumb.

“Do I now?”

“Oh, yes.”

Harry laughed.

“Have I wrapped you around my little finger then, sweet one? Is my offer of any interest to you?”

“I’m interested alright, don’t you pretend you don’t already know that, Potter.”

“Just making sure, Malfoy, just making sure.”

“Bring it on, Director Potter, I’ll give you sass like you’ve never seen before.”

“Does that mean that you’re planning to fight me every step of the way?”

Draco nodded.

“You bet it does. I want this. Yes, to the dry spell and yes to the roleplay. Bring. It. On. Potter.”

“So full of confidence. When the time comes, we’ll have to do something about your sassy disposition.”

“Give it your best shot, Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“I’ll give it my best smack, my little prince. And while we’re at it, perhaps also a couple of blows and stings.”

Draco swallowed hard.

What had been a curious spark was now desire. His silvery-grey eyes were darker than before, and his pupils were just a little dilated.

Harry smiled.

“Do we have a deal then?”

Draco inclined his head.

“We absolutely have.”

“Very well then, your dry spell starts tomorrow after you get out of bed.”

Draco chuckled.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, Sir. Can we sleep in and make love in bed?”

Harry grinned.

“That depends entirely on how well-behaved you are today and whether you thank me for each blow that’s going to land on your arse.”

“If I get passionate morning sex, I’ll kneel, kiss your feet, and thank you for fucking me, Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“I’ll take your word for it, my love.”

Draco’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sir.”

“As you do, my little prince, as do you.”

Draco finished his coffee and smiled.

“Fine, I consent.”

“Smart move.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got brains, thank you very much, Potter.”

Harry smirked.

“I don’t doubt that, but just so you know, by the time I’m done with you later tonight, your brains will be nothing but useless mush.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Good.”

Harry, too, finished his coffee, and reaching for another clementine, he peeled it effortlessly.

“Which brings us to the final topic on our agenda―”

Draco squirmed visibly, and his earlier excitement evaporated.

“Harry― About that…”

Harry smiled.

He ate about half of his second clementine, offered a carpel to Draco, then placed his hand back on top of Draco’s and squeezed it lightly.

“I know. You can have tough if that’s what you really want. I can certainly tighten the reins a bit over the next two weeks, but I don’t think to go all the way and giving up all control would make you happy, my love. I don’t even need to let you try to know you’ll be miserable less than half a day into the game.”

Draco pressed his lips together, then sighed.

“You’re not wrong, but will you tell me how you came to that conclusion?”

Harry smiled.

“I know you, Draco Malfoy. It’s not hard to read you when you don’t hide. You’d be miserable if I told you to stuff the sass. You wouldn’t be able to do it either, and I wouldn’t want you to try. I love your sharp tongue very much, and I’d be miserable having to live without it. You’d probably draw your wand and cast an Unforgivable Curse right at my chest if I told you that you no longer have permission to open doors. No more sitting on the sofa? Naked all the time? I’d put you into chastity for the first month and perhaps even longer. No more looking at me whenever it pleases you? Do you really want me to go on?”

Draco shook his head.

Harry nodded.

“I thought so. Total power exchange means you surrender all control, Draco. Everything. You know I don’t play without a safeword, so you’d keep that, and I’d respect your limits too, but you’d find them pushed a lot more often. The submission you give me now is so much sweeter than anything the two of us could ever negotiate in terms of you giving it all up.”

They sat in silence for a while, and Harry calmly accepted that Draco needed a few moments to process.

He gave him that time, and while Draco mulled everything over in his head, he finished two more clementines, then got up to throw all the thin orange peel into the bin. He washed his hands in the sink, dried them on a towel, they kept by the sink specifically for that purpose, then returned to the kitchen table, but instead of sitting down, he stood behind Draco. Harry put his hands down on Draco’s shoulders and squeezing them gently, he began to massage the tense muscles.

Draco sighed, rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head back and looked at him.

“That feels so good,” he whispered softly.

Harry smiled.

“I’m glad to hear that, my little prince.”

He massaged a little more insistently, kneading the tension right out of Draco.

“That feels so good, please don’t stop, Sir.”

Draco hummed softly.

He let his head fall forward, and Harry ran his thumbs along the length of the back of Draco’s neck. He pressed the tips of his thumbs to the base of Draco’s skull and massaged the tender muscles there carefully, applying just the right amount of pressure to enable him to untwist the tiny sore knots.

“I won’t stop, my little prince, rest assured.”

Draco continued to hum, though at some point it turned into a little moan.

Harry smiled.

He paused his massage and without removing his hands from Draco’s shoulders, he leant forward and pressed his lips to the shell of Draco’s ear.

“If you really want tough, my sweet little prince, then do this for me. I want you to go to bed early every single night of the week for the next two weeks. No late nights. You’re not leaving the house without breakfast, and you will stop your trial prep to have lunch. You will do so without my reminders or take a spanking for every missed meal. I’m not going to stop you from eating sweets, but I’d like you to come for a walk with me every other evening. I’d like daily journal entries, and I want to know how you feel. And finally, next weekend, I want you to go take your mother somewhere nice. Finish work a bit early on Friday and surprise her with a little trip. Stay away until Sunday night. I’ll miss you, but I’ll spend a bit of time with Teddy, and I’m sure he’ll want to colour something for you. If you want me to be tougher, then those are my demands. Take it or leave it.”

Once he fell silent, Draco shivered.

Harry straightened up and resumed kneading Draco’s shoulders. He applied a bit more pressure than before, and Draco let out a long sigh. He shifted on his chair and remained silent for several minutes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a breathless, shaky whisper.

“Harry―”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be healthy. I want you to sleep well, eat well, and get enough fresh air. Family is important to you, and your mother even though she’s probably going to grumble about you springing this on her, she’ll secretly love it, and she’ll find little ways to show you. It’ll make you happy, and I want that more than anything. I want you happy, full of life, and healthy. You know I care about you and those things are more important to me than you dropping everything you’re doing just to kneel at my feet. Take these two weeks to take care of yourself and know that you’re doing it to please me. Afterwards, we can still talk about me occasionally being a bit firmer with you and making more demands.”

Harry felt the sob that erupted from somewhere deep in the centre of Draco’s body long before he heard it because by the time it had fought its way to freedom it was more of a choked sniff than a proper sob.

Acting quickly and without hesitation, Harry pulled Draco up and straight into his arms. He engulfed Draco in a bone-brushing hug and held him tight, giving him a moment to feel all of his emotions.

“I love you, my little prince.”

Draco hummed softly and buried his face in the space where Harry’s shoulder connected with his neck.

Harry felt warm dampness against the bare skin of his neck and knew that Draco was quietly shedding a few tears. In response, he merely squeezed tighter, and it was only when Draco tried to wriggle free, that he slowly relaxed his grip, and allowed Draco to pull back.

Once he had, Harry cupped both of Draco’s cheeks, wiped his tears away and kissed him deeply.

Draco instantly melted into the kiss, mutely surrendering to its passionate force.

Harry kissed him fiercely and with wild abundance until his lungs began to protest massively. It was only then that he grudgingly broke away from the kiss and smiled.

“I love you, Harry Potter. Your love is the best damn thing that ever happened to me.”

Harry filled his lungs with as much oxygen as he possibly could and smiled.

“I assure you; the feeling is mutual.”

“I’ll do it. A fortnight of wellness will do me a world of good. Especially if you’re planning to edge me repeatedly and we’ll be doing a roleplay scene.”

Harry grinned.

“Sensible idea.”

* * *

* * *


	18. A Dog's Plea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This needed to be written today.  
Only took all day but it was well worth it.  
Originally, this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long or include a second scene, but thanks to a certain someone *glares* (yes, you know who you are and I don't care if this sort of naughtiness gets me into trouble, I'll take everything you throw at me and then some!) it now is, so, yes, you can thank that person over there *points*. She made me (although I can tell you already, that she will deny it vigorously and make me pay dearly for it!) *grins*.
> 
> Do enjoy the chapter.  
Meanwhile, I'm off to find a pillow to protect a certain part of myself. It'll be of fuck-all use but I've at least got to try.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x
> 
> P.S. I apologise if this AN makes zero sense. Just read the chapter and ignore my nonsense.

* * *

* * *

Draco wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck to ward off London’s chilly late autumn breeze. He stuffed the grey scarf firmly underneath the double-layer stand collar of his black thigh-length soft-brushed plaid topcoat with its smooth taffeta lining and bitterly regretted having detached the inside collar before he’d left Harry’s and his house to go to work.

The golden rays of this morning’s autumn sun had looked warm, but that had been nothing more than an illusion. Even after nearly thirty years of navigating Britain’s weather, Draco was embarrassed to admit that he still managed to fall for a bit of bright sunshine and allow it to trick him into believing today might actually be a warm day.

Even now, at lunchtime, and despite the sky being clear and cloudless, it wasn’t exceptionally warm. The wind had scattered golden, yellow, brown and red leaves all over the park’s carpet of grass. Only small patches of green were still visible and bringing the takeaway paper cup with his hot cappuccino up to his lips, Draco took a sip, then crouched down. He wrestled a large stick from Kona, and when she barked in protest, he merely poked his tongue out at her. She barked again and attempted to jump up at him, but Malcolm whistled, and she sat down on her hind legs instead-but looked up at Draco with a pleading look in her great big brown eyes.

_Play with me, play with me, throw the stick already, come on, play with me_, it said, and for a moment it gave Draco pause. He couldn’t help but wonder whether he occasionally looked like that whenever Harry and he indulged in a bit of kinky playtime, and they lost themselves in the thrill of the power dynamic they’d created between them. It was a weird comparison to make, but he knew that right this second, Kona’s entire world revolved around him and that large stick in his hand.

Whenever Harry dominated him, he felt much the same way. Nothing but Harry and whatever toy, or implement, he held in his hand mattered. Everything else always faded away, became utterly unimportant. The more dominance Harry exerted, the quieter his mind became and the millions of thoughts that plagued him, day in and day out, stopped. They didn’t disappear, but they ceased to matter and no longer held any sort of power over him.

Even without the intense sex and the marks Harry, with his consent, left on him, it was the sweetest and most potent form of mind control, Draco had ever experienced in his entire life. It was addictive and exhilarating, and Draco had no other words to describe the all-consuming rush he felt whenever he submitted to Harry. He loved to obey Harry’s every command and willingly did so without hesitation. He had no desire to question any of Sir’s decisions. In those moments, Harry knew best. He was his anchor and the one person that could provide him with the stability and the confidence he needed, in what was an otherwise uncertain situation.

Kona barked again, and Draco abandoned any further musings about the intricacy of Harry’s and his relationship. Instead, he teased Kona with the stick, then tossed it across what had once been a pasture of green and straight into a large pile of fallen autumn leaves. Barking, Kona chased after the stick and promptly disappeared into the pyramid of dry foliage.

“You know, she’s never this wild when Andrej plays with her. I mean, I’m sure she loves him, but she’s completely besotted with you, and you’re the only one she goes completely batshit crazy for.”

Draco turned his head and grinned at Malcolm.

“I have that sort of effect on dogs,” he said.

Malcolm chuckled.

“You know, I was thinking of letting her have some puppies. She’s about the perfect age now to be a mom.”

“Are you ready for a whole pile tiny Golden Retrievers falling all over each other?”

“No, but I have several ulterior motives.”

“Oh?”

Draco took another sip from his cappuccino and raised a curious eyebrow at his ex-boyfriend.

Before Malcolm could answer his question, Kona returned and placed a thoroughly soiled stick at Draco’s feet. He eyed it with some disdain but crouched down anyway, and picked it up. As usual, Kona tried to wrestle it from him, but he was faster, and tossing it back into the nearby pile of leaves, he watched Kona leap after it with enormous enthusiasm and several loud barks.

Once she’d dashed off, he turned his attention back to Malcolm.

“You were saying?”

Malcolm smiled.

“Andrej and I spent the last few months talking about having a baby.”

Pausing mid-step, Draco felt his jaw drop in response, and it took him several seconds before he was able to shake off the state of stupefaction. He felt a strange sort of shudder trickle down his spine, and drinking a bit more of his coffee, he slowly swallowed the hot milky liquid.

“That’s a bit of a bombshell,” he mumbled.

Malcolm shrugged.

“When Andrej first brought it up, I thought so too, but strangely enough, it only took me a week to warm up to the idea.”

Draco frowned a little.

“And now you want to breed Kona so you can help her take care of a bunch of puppies.”

Malcolm nodded.

“Perhaps a bit of a strange way of going about it, but I thought it’d be safer than finding a surrogate, having a baby, and ending up feeling thoroughly overwhelmed.”

Draco laughed.

“You’ll feel like that either way, I have it on good authority that babies have that effect on you, whether you want them to or not. I might be an only child, but just about everyone in Harry’s extended family has children, and family dinners are madness.”

Malcolm chuckled.

“You’ve been to Hawaii with me, you know what my family is like.”

Draco grinned.

“Don’t remind me, between your lot and Harry’s lot, I can’t decide which lot is worse.”

Malcolm nudged his arm affectionately with his elbow.

“You love it, really.”

Draco smiled.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Malcolm laughed.

He took a sip from his own coffee.

“Sure, you don’t, Draco. We both know that beneath all that icy shell you’ve got a warm heart full to the brim with love.”

Draco lifted his paper cup to his lips and smirked against the white lid, then took two or three small sips in a row.

“Innocent until proven guilty,” he said.

Malcolm rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need to prove what I already know.”

Draco laughed.

“Perhaps not in a park but certainly in a court of law.”

Kona interrupted them again, and after wrangling with her and winning the saliva-covered chewed stick from her, Draco tossed as far as he possibly could and with a loud bark, that echoed through the nearly empty park, she enthusiastically bounced after her current favourite toy.

Once she was off, Draco finished the last bit of his cappuccino and walking over to a nearby litter basket, he threw the paper cup away, then returned to Malcolm’s side and together they continued to stroll across the sea of autumn leaves while Kona frolicked around in the foliage. He watched her for a moment, and smiled, then turned his attention back to Malcolm.

“You and Andrej got serious pretty fast,” he said.

Malcolm smiled and shrugged.

“I feel, he’s the right one.”

Draco grinned.

“Didn’t you once say that about me?”

Malcolm laughed.

“I did try a couple of times, didn’t I? In all fairness though, you always looked at me like you’d rather sever my head off than consider the possibility of us having a real go at it.”

“It would have been a disaster. I think we were always meant to be friends.”

Humming, Draco crouched down and picked up the stick Kona had placed on the ground in front of his feet. He toyed with it for several seconds, looking at it from several different angles, but Kona got impatient quickly and demanded it back with a loud bark. She also prodded him with her wet black snout.

Smiling, Draco tossed the large stick back into the pile of leaves and Kona dashed after it at the speed of light, and as she disappeared into the foliage, she barked happily and loudly. Draco shook his head, then quickened his pace and caught up with Malcolm, who’d walked a few steps ahead, and nudged him playfully.

Malcolm turned his head sideways and smiled at him.

He sipped on his coffee, then bent down, picked up a sizeable golden acorn leaf, and casually twirled the stem between his fingers.

Draco watched him for a while, and briefly took a trip down memory lane, remembering his and Malcolm’s relationship. Throughout their relationship, they’d always had a good time, and like Harry, Malcolm had always enjoyed his sass and his snide remarks. He’d never had a problem with his mask of cool indifference, and occasionally he’d even managed to worm his way underneath it and strip back a layer or two. Back then Draco had been much younger, and the scars from the war had been fresh.

Even though he’d tried to be open and carefree, it had been hard and sometimes damn near impossible to accomplish. Still, he didn’t remember Malcolm ever pressuring him to change or to share more about his past. He’d always accepted him for who he was, and ultimately the only thing that had driven a wedge between them had been the fact that Malcolm was married to his job and worked twenty-four hours, seven days a week.

Sure, they’d tried to make time for each other, but Draco had been determined to prove himself as a prosecutor and he, too, had found it difficult to let go of his work in favour of spending more quality time with Malcolm. Their month-long holiday in Hawaii had been Malcolm’s attempt to salvage the relationship, but a few weeks after returning home to London, they’d sat down in Malcolm’s front room for a heart to heart. After a very long chat, they’d come to the conclusion that their relationship had run its course and vowed to be friends for life instead. So far, their friendship had outlasted their love affair, and Draco cherished their easy-going camaraderie. Post-war, he’d purposefully lost touch with his most of his Slytherin housemates and had no idea what the majority of them were up to.

Considering the level of attention Harry’s and his relationship received from the press, his old housemates knew more about his relationship than he knew about their lives. The first time the Prophet had written about Harry and him, Pansy’s owl had delivered a short message to the Manor.

Apparently, she’d always known that Harry and he would end up together. Draco still remembered scoffing at the message. He’d very nearly tossed it into the fireplace, too. It had taken him months to respond, and once he’d found the time, he’d sent her a somewhat snarky note back, and she’d never answered him afterwards.

Blaise Zabini had been the only other person to write to him. His letter had arrived after Harry’s and his interview with the Prophet; it had been a short handwritten congratulatory message, and Draco had responded within days of receiving it and just like that he and Blaise had rekindled their Hogwarts friendship. These days, Blaise spent most of his time in America and hardly ever returned home to Britain. But he wrote, regularly. His letters weren’t long, but they were honest and kind. 

Smiling to himself, Draco allowed himself a moment to recall Harry’s and his one and only official interview. He had very fond memories of that day. How could he not? While he’d been a bundle of nerves about ready to crawl into his closet and lock the door from the inside, Harry had gallantly defended his honour and outright demanded that the Wizarding World respect their private lives.

Reminiscing about the day of the interview was enough to send a pleasant shudder down Draco’s spine, and for a few seconds his knees felt a bit weak. Harry never shied away from being affectionate with him. He didn’t care where they were or who was watching. He wasn’t ashamed of their relationship or his feelings. It made Draco’s chest swell, and his heart beat faster. Not a day went by that Harry didn’t find some way to show him how incredibly special he thought he was. The knowledge that there was someone in his life who loved him this fiercely and without the slightest bit of self-restraint was thrilling and intoxicating.

“Hey you, come back here.”

Malcolm’s words pulled Draco out of his reverie and shaking off his daze, he smiled at his friend.

“Where did you go?” Malcolm asked.

But before Draco could answer the question, Malcolm held his hand up and shook his head.

“No, wait, don’t tell me. I know it. We were daydreaming about your knight in shining armour, Harry Potter.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“He’s not my knight in shining armour. Anyway, you’re the one with the big news, so, tell me, are you still working day and night or are you making more of an effort to find time for Andrej? My guess is yes, but I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

Malcolm whistled under his breath.

“Still sore about that, I see,” he said.

He grinned mischievously, and for a second or three, Draco fervently wished that he could draw his wand and hex Malcolm.

“I’m not even going to justify this idiocy with a response,” he drawled instead.

Malcolm laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, briefly pulling him close.

“You just did; besides you know I’m just messing with you, little one.”

Draco glowered darkly and clenched his wand hand in an attempt to control the itch in his palm.

“Easy there, tiger.”

Draco pressed his lips together.

“I’m more of a snake. I prefer slyness, cunning deceit, dexterity, craftiness, and stealth. I attack suddenly and when you least expect me to.”

Malcolm chuckled with amusement.

“And they let you get away with that level of monkey business in the prosecutor’s chambers?”

Draco smirked.

“Wrong question, Mal. Letting someone get away with something implies they have knowledge of the devilry I get up to. The key is not to let them know. Besides, anything I do is perfectly legal. I’m just really good at fucking with your mind when you least expect me to do so.”

Malcolm nudged him with his shoulder.

“Kinky.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh, believe me, I know. Although, I’m pretty sure that Harry is the one who does the mindfucking.”

Draco chuckled.

There was a certain gleam in Malcolm’s eyes, and without actually saying a lot, he conveyed that Draco didn’t need be specific about the nature of Harry’s and his relationship.

A little over a year and a half ago, the mere idea of anyone knowing, or finding out, what kind of deviance Harry was capable of, had terrified Draco.

These days, he didn’t care so much.

While he didn’t particularly want his boss or his mother to know, he’d learnt a great deal about the kind of relationship Harry, and he had. He’d discovered a great deal about himself and come to the conclusion that the only people who considered Harry’s and his lifestyle depraved were the kind of people who didn’t understand it. Those who did understand and Draco knew that Malcolm understood, saw nothing bizarre or strange in surrendering to one’s partner’s dominance and enjoying ropes, restraints, rules, control, and a bit, or a lot, of pain.

Still, knowing that Malcolm didn’t expect him to reveal any details about Harry’s and his sex life felt good and crouching down, Draco wrestled with Kona, stealing the stick from her. He ruffled her long fur and petted her thoroughly, then tossed the stick away again and off she went.

As he stood up again, he decided to change the topic. He wanted to know more about Malcolm’s and Andrej’s relationship. The last time he’d met Malcolm, Andrej had been there too, and it had been easy to see that Malcolm was utterly besotted with his partner. On the way home, he’d asked Harry what he thought, but Harry had merely smiled and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss in the middle of the pavement before telling him that he thought Malcolm was as serious about Andrej as he was about him.

“Did Andrej move in yet?” Draco asked.

Malcolm nodded.

“You could say that. He stays over most nights, and almost all of his stuff is at my place. We’re in the middle of finalising things.”

Draco arched an eyebrow at Malcolm.

It was a silent question, but Malcolm understood.

“I think, if AJ and I are really going to have a baby, I’d like to buy us something in the country. Perhaps out in Surrey. Something with a large garden, plenty of room for Kona to run wild. If she has puppies, I’m sure I won’t want to part company with them, although realistically, we’ll probably have to give a few away. You know me, I grew up on an island. The ocean was my back garden. I want to live somewhere where my kid and my dogs can roam free and explore to their heart’s content.”

Draco smiled.

“Who knew you were such an old romantic,” he said.

Malcolm shrugged.

“I think I surprised myself. AJ knocked me on my arse in the best possible way.”

“As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Malcolm nodded.

“I’m beyond happy. Speaking of happiness, you’re probably going to try and kill me for this, but do you and Harry have any plans to make things official?”

Draco sighed.

“Not you too,” he mumbled.

Malcolm grinned cheekily though there was a bit of a sheepish look in his eyes.

“You can’t fault me for asking,” he said.

Draco turned his head sideways and glared daggers at him.

“I can and I will,” he snarled.

Malcolm laughed.

“You don’t scare me, Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“That’s because I’ve yet to make an actual effort, but to answer your question, no, Harry and I have no plans to get married any time soon, but I promise you, if that changes, you’ll be one of the first ones to find out.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to the wedding. Should be fun.”

Draco groaned.

“I just told you there won’t be a wedding.”

Malcolm chuckled.

“At some point, there will be, you and I both know that.”

Draco sighed.

He arched an eyebrow at Malcolm.

“And why do _we_ know that?”

Malcolm winked.

“I know that because I’ve seen the way you look at Harry when you think nobody’s looking, and you know that because you know the way you look at Harry when you think nobody’s looking.”

Draco snorted and dissolved into laughter.

“Hide behind your amusement all you want, dragon boy, we both know I’m telling the truth.”

It took several moments before Draco managed to calm down completely. Once he’d managed to control his desire to laugh until his sides hurt, he first tossed Kona’s stick a good few yards to his left, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“How do I look at Harry then?”

Malcolm smiled.

“Like absolutely nothing and nobody matters. Like he’s some divine god that descended from the Heavens and made you his. Like his soul is the missing half that completes yours. It’s easy to see when you’ve someone in your life you feel exactly that way about. AJ is my Harry.”

Draco wanted to roll his eyes at Malcolm or mock his ex-boyfriend in some other way, but he couldn’t come up with a single good reason as to why that sort of reaction made sense. What Malcolm had just said was the truth. Whenever he looked at Harry, even if it was only for a second, absolutely nothing and nobody mattered. Harry’s soul was the missing piece that completed his own, and together they made a whole. And occasionally, or quite often actually, he did like to imagine that Harry was some divine being that had descended from the Heavens to claim him, possess him, and own him.

So, instead of making fun of Malcolm’s overly sentimental words, he merely smiled and decided to share a little secret with his ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll marry him someday,” he said quietly.

Malcolm nodded.

He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, and Draco let him.

“I know you will,” he said, “and I can’t wait for the day you and Harry exchange your wedding vows.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat and averting his eyes, he thanked Kona for her insatiable desire to play fetch with him. As she approached him with the chewed stick in her mouth, he ducked out of Malcolm’s one-armed hug, and laughing out loud, he chased after his favourite dog, promising to outrun her. She looked entirely unconvinced, but stopped, waited for him to come close enough to grab her stick, then barked ― without dropping the stick ― and dashed off.

* * *

* * *

Draco closed his eyes and tilted his head up towards the steady and powerful stream of hot water that cascaded down over him. He hummed softly and lost himself in the sensations of enjoying a relaxing pre-dinner shower. He rolled his shoulders gently and licking his lips, he caught some of the falling water and swallowed it.

Several minutes past and Draco remained immobile under the heavy rain of water. He let his mind drift but didn’t settle on any particular thought, then slowly lowered his head and opening his eyes, he blinked, then focused on the swirl of water surrounding the shower drain.

He was only mildly surprised when two strong arms slithered around his waist. Harry embraced him from behind, hugging him tightly, and he felt Harry’s rather prominent erection press against the crack between his arse cheeks.

Harry kissed the side of his neck, nibbled on his earlobe, and biting down, he trapped the sensitive flesh between his teeth and pulled.

Draco let out a low moan.

“Did you have a good day, my little prince?”

Draco hummed in response.

Harry clicked his tongue, and without thinking, Draco immediately corrected his answer.

“Yes, Sir, I did, thank you.”

“Hm, good boy.”

Harry murmured the praise against the side of his neck and kissed him.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Tilting his head sideways, Draco willingly gave Harry better access and gasped when Harry promptly sank his teeth into his neck and bit him hard.

“_Ngh_.”

Draco flinched at the sudden and intense pain but closed his eyes and let it flood his senses.

He felt Harry’s hands caress his stomach and chest and moaned when Harry pinched his nipples and twisted them.

“I want you, my little prince.”

Draco hummed.

“I’m all yours, Sir.”

“Yes, you are, you’re all mine, mine, mine.”

“_Ngh_.”

Harry twisted his nipples again, this time with a little more force than before, and pulled them too. He twirled them between his forefinger and thumb, applying just enough pressure for Draco to want to drown in all those sensations. He loved the exquisite pain and Harry’s possessiveness, and he could feel his own cock stir. It steadily filled with blood, growing larger and hardening until it stood up proud, demanding attention. Draco knew his cock wouldn’t be getting any attention for the longest time, but he neither cared nor minded.

Right now, all he cared about was Harry’s touch and his delicious torment. He never wanted it to stop, and he hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t.

Harry didn’t disappoint.

He continued to twist and pull and squeeze his nipples for several more minutes.

“Do you like this, my little prince?”

Harry asked the question after a particularly painful tug, and Draco inhaled sharply.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want me to stop, my little prince?”

Draco mewled in instant protest.

“No, Sir.”

“Beg.”

“Please don’t stop, please, Sir, please. This feels really good, please, please, don’t stop.”

Draco felt and heard Harry’s soft chuckle against the side of his neck and relished in the kiss, Harry pressed against the spot he’d bitten earlier.

“Such a good boy.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat and wondered whether his praise kink would manage to turn them crimson. They were already flushed from his shower.

He felt Harry’s hands move.

They slid up his chest, edging closer and closer to his shoulders, and keeping his eyes closed and his head lowered, Draco revelled in the sensation of Harry’s touch.

Harry squeezed his shoulders, massaged his upper arms, then ran his hands down to his wrists and pulling them up, he guided them over his head. Draco voluntarily raised his arms and hands up, and when he felt Harry guide him to the metal bar above them, he obediently wrapped his fingers around it and held on tightly.

“That’s my good little prince.”

Yet more praise fell from Harry’s lips and clouded Draco’s mind and senses.

He wasn’t cold, but he still shuddered.

Harry squeezed his wrists tightly.

“Don’t let go until I tell you to and don’t lock your legs, my sweet little prince.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hm, good boy.”

Draco felt Harry press a kiss between his shoulder blades, then Harry’s fingers returned to his nipples, and he resumed playing with them.

Whenever Draco thought he’d worked out Harry’s pattern, he changed it up, and the heavy fogginess in Draco’s brain began to increase.

He whimpered softly, lost himself in wave after wave of utterly intense pain.

Vaguely aware of the fact that Harry was trailing kisses down the entire length of his spine, and therefore kneeling behind him, Draco curled his toes against the matt that prevented him from slipping on the wet marble floor tiles.

Harry had reached the small of his back and bringing his hands down to his hips, he squeezed them, then ordered him to push his arse out a little further.

Draco obeyed without questioning him.

He felt Harry’s fingers slip between his arse cheeks and tease around his hole. The tight ring of muscle fluttered in anticipation, and he let out a long moan.

Harry pulled his cheeks apart, and when he felt the tip of Harry’s tongue lick around his hole, Draco groaned.

A shudder surged through him, and his stomach flipped upside down. A whole jar of butterflies tumbled off a shelf, the lid rolled off into a distant corner, and the swarm of overexcited overenthusiastic butterflies fluttered freely inside of him.

Harry licked his hole again, then applied a bit of pressure, though not enough to actually breach and enter him.

Draco whimpered.

His cock twitched excitedly, and he wanted Harry inside of him more than anything else. There was literally absolutely nothing he wanted more. He wanted Harry to fill him, with his tongue, his fingers, his cock, a toy, anything. If Harry wanted to claim his hole and fuck him raw, he was more than okay with that.

Harry continued to tease his hole, flicking his tongue over and around it and Draco’s gripped the steel bar above his head so tightly that he didn’t need to look up to know that his knuckles had turned white. He continued to curl his toes, and when Harry pressed the tip of his finger against his hole and breached him, slipping just an inch inside, he howled with pleasure.

“Please, Sir, please, please, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, Sir, please.”

Draco felt Harry chuckle against his arse cheek, then yelped when Harry sank his teeth into the sensitive skin and bit and sucked hard.

“All in good time, my little prince, all in good time.”

Draco swallowed hard.

He tried his hardest to concentrate on the pain, but Harry resumed licking his hole while slowly fucking him with only an inch of a single finger, which he most definitely did not insert all the way, no matter how much Draco wanted him to. Despite his best efforts, Draco’s mind focused on the pleasure.

He felt Harry’s hand cup and squeeze his balls, felt him toy with the heavy sacs and then rub the palm of his hand over them and along the underside of his cock. Harry’s thumb circled around the head, and feeling his legs shake, Draco shivered and shuddered.

“Please, Sir, please, please.”

“Patience, my little prince.”

They were about a week into their little game and so far, Harry had edged him every single night without fail. He’d fucked him, toyed with him, spanked him and tormented him with anal beads while sliding his fist up and down his cock, but each time Draco was seconds away from the point of no return, Harry ceased touching him and left him right there on the very edge, desperate for an orgasm he wasn’t allowed to have while he either emptied himself deep inside of Draco, fucked his mouth and made him swallow, or wanked until he came all over Draco, splashing rope after rope of white-hot come all over his stomach and chest.

By the end of it, when Draco was so out of it that he could barely tell the difference between up and down and left and right, Harry would mumble that evil little spell that made his cock wilt like a dead wildflower and while the spell did wonders to his erection, and stopped his cock from turning blue and then black, did it absolutely nothing to curb his desperate need to come. He’d begged every night, on his knees with his arms behind his back, but while Harry praised him for being good and obedient, he was relentless and devious and most definitely not in a giving mood.

A small part of Draco wanted to curse Harry and wanted him to feel the torment and unquenchable thirst he felt, but on the whole, he loved the game, and the power Harry held over him.

Over the last week, Draco’s desire to submit every inch of him to Harry had increased tenfold, and he couldn’t see that thrill decrease any time soon. It never really did anyway.

He was hooked, spellbound, addicted.

He wanted more, more, more.

He needed Harry to take him, own him, possess him.

Draco felt Harry’s fingers close around his cock, felt him pump it slowly and deliberately, and groaning, he surrendered to the fierce electrical jolt that surged down his spine and pooled low in his groin. From there, it spread through him, like the fiery heat of uncontrollable wildfire, and he moaned, deeply and without shame.

Everything about this was right.

This was what he wanted and needed.

Harry teased him with his fingers and tongue. He fucked him, stroked his cock, and worked him up until incessant pleas fell from Draco’s lips entirely out of their own volition.

He could not and did not want them to stop.

Harry slowly spread him open, and Draco did not know from where Harry had gotten the lube from, but he felt the slick wetness around his hole, and inside of him.

His hole was loose, dripping wet and his cock throbbed in Harry’s hand.

He pleaded and begged for more, but Harry did not indulge him.

No, he proceeded at his pace.

Draco felt Harry slowly rise to his feet and pepper the side of his neck with kisses before leaving another possessive bitemark.

Feeling his knees shake, Draco latched onto the pain and used it to clear some of the haze from his mind. Harry’s arm slithered around his waist and held him tight, then two fingers slipped inside of him, and Harry expertly found his prostate and massaged it.

The pain, Draco had tried his hardest to focus on, disappeared, and the haze returned.

Panting, Draco moaned, and his entire body shook and trembled.

He held on to the steel bar above his head but was utterly grateful for Harry’s tight hold on him.

A pleasant tingling sensation spread from his prostate through every inch of his groin and steadily intensified.

“Are you close, my little prince?”

Draco whimpered.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, Sir.”

“Do you want to come, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Will you come without permission?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good boy.”

Draco moaned.

He felt Harry rub his prostate harder, more insistently, and the muscles inside his tight channel tightened around Harry’s fingers.

Harry smacked his arse cheek hard, and the sting brought him back from the edge, but he was too desperate and too turned on for the relief to last longer than a minute or two.

Before long, he was right back on the very edge, and he begged and pleaded with Harry to let him come. The words simply fell from his lips. He had no control over him.

But Harry stopped.

He withdrew his fingers, and Draco’s prostate throbbed.

His whole body was on fire and tingled.

He desperately wanted to come. He wanted just one orgasm, something, anything, to make up for Harry’s teasing this past week.

Another harsh blow landed on his arse cheek, and it bloomed.

Draco moaned and focused on the pain.

Another blow.

Then a fourth.

A fifth.

Harry paused, then a series of blows rained down on Draco’s arse, and he lost himself in the sensations, cherished each one.

When Harry paused again, Draco thanked him.

Harry bit his earlobe and tugged on it with his teeth.

Draco winced.

“Please, Sir.”

“Please, what, my little prince?”

“Please, just, Sir, please.”

Draco heard Harry’s devious chuckle.

His arse throbbed from the spanking he’d just taken.

He was still close.

This prostate was thick and swollen.

His cock twitched and bobbed.

“I’m not sure I know what you want, my little prince.”

Draco whimpered.

“Please, Sir, please.”

“Be a good boy then.”

“I will, I promise, Sir.”

“Words mean nothing, prove it, my little prince.”

Draco felt Harry smear more lube around his hole and felt him squirt it into him, then Harry’s cock entered him.

Harry filled him and once again, Draco latched on to the burning sensation of being split open. The pain pulled him further away from the edge, and he fervently hoped that Harry intended to pound his arse and fuck him with wild abandon.

He couldn’t take the thought of being slowly teased.

Thankfully, Harry didn’t disappoint, and after giving him a few moments to adjust, he pulled back and then slammed right back inside.

His pace was harsh, and Draco basked in the roughness.

He felt whole.

“Thank you, Sir, thank you.”

Harry pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Good boy.”

Draco shuddered.

His fingers slipped a little, and he had to adjust his grip.

Harry instantly tightened his hold on him but continued to pound his arse and Draco couldn’t help but look forward to the exquisite pain he’d be feeling all day tomorrow.

“I’m yours, Sir, all yours.”

Draco whispered the words against the wet tiles in front of him. He was sure that Harry hadn’t heard them over the cascading water, but he had.

“Yes, you are. You’re all mine, precious little prince. Mine to fuck, mine to love, mine to take apart, mine, mine, mine.”

“Yes, yes, yes, Sir, yes.”

Draco couldn’t think of anything else to say but yes.

It was the only word that he still managed to form.

Harry continued to fuck into him, claim him, and whisper obscene promises into his ear.

Draco moaned and whimpered and curled his toes.

His muscles clenched around Harry’s cock, and he felt it twitch almost violently inside of him.

Harry was close, Draco was sure of that.

Making every conscious effort to relax, Draco took every thrust, every bite and every squeeze.

He drowned in Harry’s breathless groans. His breathing was harsh and warm and wet and everything Draco wanted and more.

It didn’t take much longer until Harry finally exploded deep inside of him, filling him with his come, and Draco held perfectly still and allowed Harry to ride out his orgasm.

Afterwards, he politely thanked Harry for fucking him.

Harry growled into his ear, squeezed his hips hard enough to bruise, and then pushed two fingers into his arse, rubbing his prostate.

The small walnut-sized nub instantly reacted to the stimulation, and Draco let his head fall forward.

He groaned.

“Please, Sir, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me come, Sir.”

“Is that what you want, my little prince?”

“Yes, Sir, please. I want it so bad, please.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And have you been a good boy for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry’s chuckle zapped down his spine, and his fingers rubbed his prostate harder, faster.

“Then come for me, my precious little prince, come.”

Intense relief washed over Draco and he finally allowed himself to entirely give in to the sensations of the orgasm he hadn’t been allowed to have for the last week. His cock twitched and his arse clenched around Harry’s fingers. His prostate throbbed, and wave after wave of hotness rolled through and over him.

Draco gasped for air and lost himself in the sensations.

Harry brought him right to the edge of the point of no return, then pushed him over it, letting him fall right down the rabbit hole.

Draco’s orgasm was intense.

It robbed him of his ability to breathe properly, or at all, and his knees gave in.

Harry held on to him and continued to tease his prostate, deliberately extending his orgasm for as long as he possibly could.

He didn’t stop, and it didn’t take long for the burning need to come again to sweep over him.

“One’s not nearly enough, don’t you think, my little prince?”

Harry’s husky voice was right beside his ear, teasing him, egging him on.

Draco keened and whimpered.

“Yes, Sir, please let me come again, Sir, please.”

Harry chuckled.

“You bet I’ll let you come again, my little prince.”

Seconds later, a second prostate orgasm washed over Draco, and he curled his toes and groaned.

The haze in his mind was nearly impenetrable.

At this point in time, the only person who could get through to him was Harry.

Harry’s voice possessed magic powers. It could cut through the thick fog and demand his attention and Draco was virtually powerless against it. He didn’t want to fight it. He wanted Harry to fuck with his mind, the same way he fucked with his body. Every inch of him, including his mind, belonged to Harry, he wanted him to have it all.

“Such a good boy you are, coming for me like that. I think we’ll do it again, and again, and again until your knees give out.”

Harry’s words washed over him just as his third orgasm tore through him and gasping for air, Draco squeezed his eyes shut and let the tears fall.

He wasn’t hurt or sad, just relieved, and crying was his way of coping with it all. He sobbed in Harry’s embrace and let him tease orgasm after orgasm from him, feeling his knees weaken with each climax.

They buckled and shook and shuddered, and when Harry eventually grasped his cock and stroked it while he teased his prostate, Draco delved into another world entirely. His mind disconnected from his body and he floated, watching himself tremble and shake in Harry’s arms as he came one last time. This time, Harry let him have both: one last intense prostate orgasm, and then he made his cock explode, and it shot streak after streak of come over his hand and the tiles.

That was the final straw and unable to hold himself up any longer, Draco felt his hands slip off the steel bar. His knees felt like butter and promptly gave out under him.

He fully expected to fall to his knees, but Harry had an iron grip on him and prevented that from happening.

Barely coherent enough to know what was happening, Draco was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry had turned off the running water.

Silence settled around them and without letting him go, Harry pushed the door to the shower opened and guided him outside. He sat him down on the edge of their bathtub, wrapped him into one of their largest towels and then allowed him to snuggle against his stomach.

Draco breathed deeply and grinning stupidly, he sighed.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Harry combed his fingers through his wet hair.

“Anything for my good boy,” he whispered.

Draco keened.

His stomach chose precisely that moment to rumble, and when Harry started laughing, he chuckled.

Tilting his head back, he looked up at Harry, who smiled, then leant down and captured his lips in a slow and lazy kiss.

“You were perfect, my little prince. Come on, let’s get you snuggled into our bed, I’ll dash downstairs to get dinner. I made us a pizza.”

Draco felt his mouth water.

“Pizza,” he mumbled.

“Yes.”

Harry nodded.

“With plenty of cheese and spinach.”

Draco’s stomach grumbled again, and they both giggled.

“Are we going to have a picnic in bed?”

“Yes, my love. Tonight, that’s your aftercare. And then, if you don’t fall asleep right after, a film. I picked up a couple of DVDs after work.”

“You are the best.”

Harry chuckled, and Draco looked up at him.

“I mean it,” he said, trying his hardest to sound convincing.

“I know, my little prince, and I love you for it.”

Draco smiled happily, and when Harry dried him off and offered to carry him out of the bathroom and into bed, he did not object.

* * *

* * *


	19. Kinky Mystery Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Things have been a bit crazy lately, so it took me a while to get this written, but it's all done and I'm ready to share.  
I decided to give you a little bit more of a peek into Draco's head, and I hope you'll enjoy the chance to get to know him even more.
> 
> Anyone excited about their roleplay?  
I'll get there soon. Couple of loose ends to tie up first.
> 
> I'll also get around to responding to comments very soon but it's parent/teacher day this week so I've got preparations to do.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Stefan effortlessly extracted himself from Caleb’s loose embrace and got off the sofa.

Once he stood upright, he stretched luxuriously, raising his arms above his head as he did so, then relaxed and turning his head, he looked at Caleb and smiled softly, lovingly.

His stainless-steel eternity collar rested snuggly against his neck and for a moment, Draco, entirely unable to tear his eyes away, simply stared at the brightly sparkling sapphire embedded into it.

It still looked just as gorgeous and shiny as the day Caleb had fastened it around Stefan’s neck. There was not a single scratch mark on it. It was the perfect evidence of how much Stefan treasured Caleb’s gift and what their bond meant to him.

Looking at it made Draco feel just a little bit emotional, although he did his very best to conceal his feelings behind a carefully moulded mask of complete nonchalance; his preferred disguise whenever it wasn’t just Harry and him. Being entirely open with Harry was one thing, but he still struggled to show anyone else that he wasn’t infallible. Deep down, he knew that it was utter nonsense. Harry’s friends and his adopted family would never judge him just because he was capable of making mistakes or being wrong, but growing up his mask had been his only security blanket, and Draco found it extremely difficult to change a lifetime habit.

Pushing his nagging thoughts to the back of his mind, Draco focused back on the here and now. It was a gloriously sunny afternoon, and for a change, and despite autumn already being in full swing, it was actually quite warm outside.

With great difficulty, Draco finally dragged his eyes away from Stefan’s eternity collar and glanced around the high-ceilinged room instead. It was a bright and lofty room with modern but extremely comfortable furniture and professionally-installed high-grade parquet flooring. Since the room was large, the dark wood instantly gave the entire room a sense of greater solemnity, making it immediately elegant.

Caleb had invited Harry and him for a scrumptious brunch in a small newly-opened independently-owned café not too far away from his stunning, and incredibly expensive, three-storey Victorian-style house in the heart of Notting Hill. The wife of one of his firefighters had decided to use her life’s savings to follow her dreams of owning a little café of her own, and the unofficial firefighters’ code dictated that everyone, no matter how high or low their rank, should show their support. Draco rather liked that kind of close-knitted relationship and the safety net it provided.

According to Harry, up until a year ago, Caleb had only owned the ground floor flat along with the one on the first floor, but after the top floor flat had become available, he’d purchased it in a heartbeat.

It had taken some extensive renovations, and a lot of help from his dedicated team of firefighters, to turn the three separate flats into one large house. Somehow, he and Stefan had persevered all through the chaos that came with living on a construction site and now had the pleasure of sharing a stunning and absolutely spacious home.

After brunch, and because they’d all felt way too full to remain sedentary, they’d strolled down Portobello Road, past the long line of colourful market stalls and various artfully decorated shopping window displays.

Once they’d digested the majority of their late breakfast, and instead of choosing one of the many coffee shops and gathering around a small table for four, Caleb had taken them to a somewhat hidden-away French bakery, even Draco had known nothing about and he fancied himself to be somewhat of an expert when it came to finding gems in and around Notting Hill.

It was a family-run business, owned by an elderly French couple. Both of them were accredited but retired pastry chefs with a wide range of skills and several impressive awards under their belts. They’d opened the bakery a few years ago to combat boredom.

After purchasing a large assortment of freshly-baked French pastries, Caleb had suggested that they head back to his place and enjoy tea and coffee in his living room, although for the last hour and a half the four of them had simply lounged about on the comfortable leather sofas, nattering away about this and that.

Once they’d arrived at the house, Caleb had instructed Stefan to pull back the heavy living room curtains and open all the windows, allowing a fresh breeze to oxygenate the room.

As a result, warm sunshine kept flooding through the large floor-length windows, and it was pleasantly cosy inside the room.

Draco’s attention fell back onto Stefan’s striking collar, and he noticed how autumn’s scintillating rays of pure golden sunshine caught in the sapphire, embedded into the stainless steel, causing it to dazzle and shimmer, and giving the azure stone a bit of an aureate hue.

Despite its small size, the precious gemstone gleamed brilliantly and stimulated Draco’s rather vivid imagination. He quickly lost himself in a fantasy of Harry gifting him an eternity collar of his own.

Given the fact that he was a Senior Prosecutor for the Wizengamot, he didn’t think he could get away with displaying a gift of such magnitude without drawing unwanted attention to it, and the knowledge of that instantly lowered his spirits. He didn’t want to conceal something as precious as an eternity collar underneath a long-lasting glamour, and for just a moment, Draco cursed the fact that he excelled at his job, the war, and Harry’s fame. He tried his hardest to keep the feelings of pensive sadness at bay but lost the battle when he made the mistake to glance at Harry, who raised a curious eyebrow at him. It was a silent question, Harry’s way of checking in and asking whether he was okay.

Draco shook his head but shifted so that his shoulder fitted snuggly underneath Harry’s, wordlessly seeking more body contact. He felt Harry move his arm from the sofa’s backrest and wrap it around his shoulders, pulling him further into a protective embrace. Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Draco swallowed a tiny sigh and pushed past the light bout of the blues that persistently attempted to settle all around him and drag him under.

Harry, seemingly absent-minded, for he was listening to something or other Caleb was saying, drew an intricate pattern on the side of his upper arm, and focusing on the gentle touch, Draco tried his best to allow the warmth of Harry’s body to seep into him and help him relax.

The comfort that radiated from Harry’s body wasn’t the kind one could gain from spending an afternoon in the sun, but rather an indestructible protective blanket made up of a mixture of unconditional love, mutual and unbroken trust and an indescribable kind of understanding of each other’s needs, wants and desires. Harry’s warmth provided safety. It was a kind of homeliness and Draco had grown so accustomed to it that the mere idea of losing the powerful bond, Harry and he shared, filled Draco with absolute terror.

He shuddered and focused on the patterns Harry was drawing on his arm.

He smiled softly.

Knowing Harry, they were elaborate and highly detailed Shibari knotting patterns or a series of ancient runes, but no matter how hard Draco tried to discern even just a single one of them, he could not. To him, none of the motions made any sense.

“I’m going to get us the pastries and make a pot of coffee too.”

Stefan’s announced his intention to venture into the kitchen to provide them with afternoon tea and coffee as well as something to nibble on, and temporarily abandoning any and all musings about eternity collars and Harry’s and his relationship, Draco lifted his gaze and looked at Stefan.

“Put the kettle on for me, pet,” Caleb said, “I’ve had enough coffee for today, I fancy me some Earl Grey.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Stefan’s respectful response to his request resulted in the corners of Caleb’s mouth slowly turning upwards and pleased, he smiled.

“Good boy.”

Stefan reciprocated the smile, then slowly averted his eyes and lowered his head.

A few seconds of silence past, then Stefan unexpectedly addressed him.

“D, can I solicit another set of hands?”

It took Draco a few seconds to process the question, and once his brain had registered the fact that Stefan had butchered his name down to a single letter of the alphabet, he frowned deeply.

Moving his arms, Draco firmly crossed them over his chest and scowled at Stefan. He briefly contemplated whether he could get away with a wandless tripping jinx, but when Harry squeezed his arm, he abandoned that thought process and settled for undiluted sass instead.

“Really? I just about managed to stomach you jumping on the _Drake_-bandwagon, but this is ridiculous. Draco isn’t that long a name. It absolutely does not warrant being shortened to the fourth letter of the Roman Alphabet. You don’t hear me calling you “S” now, do you?”

Stefan grinned lopsidedly and shrugged.

“It sounds cool,” he said.

Draco narrowed his eyes and glowered at him.

Caleb fake-coughed into a loose fist and the word ‘_brat_’ fell from his lips.

Draco instantly turned on him and glaring icy daggers at him, he tried his hardest to pierce Caleb with one of the sharp knife blades that sparkled in his eyes.

“Reid, I promise you, one of these days I’ll put you on your arse.”

Caleb laughed in response to his threat.

His eyes danced with amusement and cheek.

“Honestly, Potter, you have my utmost respect, I don’t know how you cope with that level of sass,” he said.

Draco heard and felt Harry chuckle.

“I don’t need to cope with that level of sass, Reid. I tamed that menacing little dragon a long time ago, and trust me when he says he’ll put you on your arse, you better believe he means business.”

Caleb grinned.

“I’m looking forward to the day he decides to be that bold.”

“Don’t push me, Reid,” Draco snarled, “you will regret it.”

“You don’t scare me, Draco Malfoy. Never have, never will. Go help my boy make us some coffee and tea, he asked you rather nicely, don’t you think?”

Draco made no attempt to move.

He didn’t even shift an inch.

Instead, he kept his arms crossed and defiantly locked eyes with Caleb, engaging in a staring contest, he knew he was bound to win.

Over the last year and a half, he and Caleb had fought quite a few staring matches, and even though Caleb had yet to win a single one those matches, it didn’t stop him from trying to gain the upper hand. It had become somewhat of a fun game between them, and even though it wasn’t a particularly hard challenge, Draco still enjoyed bickering with Caleb.

“I don’t take orders from you, Reid. However, if you say ‘_please_’ and ‘_thank you_’, I might reconsider.”

Caleb slowly crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Draco’s pose.

“Not in a million years,” he said with a dirty smirk.

Draco shrugged.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll just have to pretend that I didn’t hear anything you said after ‘_never have, never will_’, which, just, so you know, is absolute tripe. I can think of a way or three to scare your pants off.”

Caleb chuckled.

“You know, Malfoy, your sass really does have a certain kind of allure to it. I get why Harry doesn’t do anything about it.”

Draco rolled his eyes, then smirked.

“He doesn’t need to. Ever since I met you, Harry and I decided that it would be best that I reserve all my sass for you. We know you like it, and it just wouldn’t be fair if I deprived you of my brilliance.”

Caleb’s chuckle turned into full-blown laughter.

“Draco Malfoy, you are the best thing that’s waltzed into my life since sliced bread.”

Draco wrinkled his nose.

“I resent being compared to a loaf of cut-up bread, Reid. I’ve got far more style than a plump piece of baked dough.”

Caleb snorted with laughter.

Draco was about to make yet another scathing remark, but Harry moved his hand and resting it just above his knee, he squeezed gently.

The gesture effectively distracted Draco, and swallowing his retort, he turned his head sideways to look at Harry.

“Save some of that sass for later, my love.”

Draco grumbled softly under his breath.

“But only because it’s you who made that request.”

Harry smiled.

“Thank you. Will you also go and help Stefan? He won’t manage to carry two trays up the stairs.”

“I’d have helped him anyway, but Reid there insisted on calling me a B.R.A.T.”

Harry chuckled.

“The cheek of him, I shall have to spank him for his insolence.”

Draco nodded.

“Please do,” he said.

He extracted himself from Harry’s loose embrace and turned his attention to Stefan.

“Come on then, S, I’ll teach you how to make a proper coffee. Master Potter here has some rather peculiar tastes.”

Stefan laughed.

“Come away, you’ll earn yourself a spanking if you keep that up.”

Draco turned his head and glanced at Harry, who grinned at him and nodded.

“He’s right, my love,” he said.

Harry’s grin slowly morphed into a devious smirk.

“I’ve got itchy palms already.”

Muttering something entirely incomprehensible under his breath, Draco pushed Stefan into the direction of the door but couldn’t resist making one last sassy comment before leaving the room.

“Don’t worry, Stefan, Potter’s palms always itch. Some strange medical condition.”

Draco could feel Harry’s emerald eyes burn into his back but resisted the urge to turn around and look at Harry.

He knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that his comment had most definitely just earned him a spanking, but he also knew that Harry would be incredibly wicked about the delivery of said funishment and he didn’t even try to find any fault in baiting Harry into wanting to colour his arse red.

His behind tingled pleasantly, and a swell of anticipation washed over him. It rolled down his shoulders and trickled along his spine, then pooled low in the centre of his groin, increasing the throbbing sensation in both his buttocks. He swallowed hard and quietly followed Stefan down the staircase and into the airy open-plan kitchen with its light and smooth wooden flooring. The kitchen led straight into a spacious dining room, and leaning against the multi-purpose island in the centre of the room, Draco watched Stefan fill the electric kettle with freshly filtered water, then flick the switch.

“Do you want help?” he asked.

Stefan turned and shook his head.

“Just help me to carry it all upstairs when I’m finished.”

Draco nodded.

“No problem.”

He grabbed a crunchy-looking green apple from the large fruit basket beside him and walking over to the sink, he rinsed it carefully, then sank his teeth into it, and biting off a large chunk, he chewed it thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, Stefan retrieved two matching wooden serving trays, four mugs, six coasters, and four plates for the pastries, Caleb had bought earlier. He took great care in placing the cakes on a large round serving plate, then opened one of the cupboards to take out a French coffee press and a pot for Caleb’s coffee.

Draco took another bite of his apple, it was a smaller chunk this time, and advised Stefan to make the coffee a little stronger, knowing Harry liked it when his coffee had a bit of zest to it. Stefan dutifully did as he’d been told, then rummaged around one of the kitchen drawers for purple napkins.

Sighing softly, Draco briefly abandoned his apple and aimlessly toying with it, he decided that if he waited any longer for Stefan to make the first move, everything would be ready and they’d be on their way back upstairs.

“Spit it out already,” he said.

Stefan stopped trying to fold the napkins and holding them in his hands, he looked up and smiled softly.

“How did you know?”

Draco smirked.

“I prosecute criminals for a living, Stefan. I can tell when someone’s trying to stall for time.”

Stefan huffed out a breath of hair.

“I wasn’t that obvious.”

Draco chuckled.

He was thoroughly amused.

Glancing at his half-eaten apple, and taking a large bite, he chewed and deliberately left Stefan hanging in the air, waiting for his answer.

Once he’d swallowed the last bit, he casually leant back against the kitchen island behind him and crossed his right ankle over his left one.

“Nah, you just got started on preparing tea the second we stepped into the kitchen. If I didn’t know that you’re such a chatterbox, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Stefan smiled.

He continued folding the napkins, then placed them on the tray with the mugs, coasters and plates.

“Takes one to know one. As a matter of fact, there’s a little something I’d like to talk to you about. Not sure whether you’ll be up for it, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

Draco raised a curious eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Well, Caleb came up with this exciting new idea of organising a series of speaking events at the club. He wants to do it in one of the larger function rooms, and for now, he wants to do a gathering every month and if it gains traction, perhaps more. There won’t be any scenes or nudity. It’ll be an evening of story-telling and education. Basically, he plans to have people come up on stage and share their experiences with the audience.

“There’ll be about six to eight speakers each time, but before the event the only person who’ll know who they are is Caleb. The mystery guests who volunteer to share their stories can talk about anything they want so long as it’s somehow related to kink, though I think Caleb plans to branch out with the subjects in the future. For now, he’s focusing on topics like getting into the lifestyle, meeting a play partner, making a commitment, a particularly memorable scene, a good experience, a bad one, anything like that. You know Caleb, there won’t be any kink-shaming. He’s strict on that, and anyone who has heard of him will know that too. He wants everyone to feel free to speak their minds and enjoy themselves in the process.”

After attentively listening to Stefan’s lengthy explanation, Draco had a pretty good idea why Stefan had told him all this, but he asked anyway.

“And you’re telling me all this why?”

For a moment, Stefan had the decency to look a bit sheepish, but that was only his initial reaction to Draco’s question. He relaxed pretty quickly.

“Well, I think it goes without saying that I’m not the most confident person when it comes to public speaking, but after Caleb told me about his idea, I asked him whether I could be one of the mystery speakers. Hearing him say that he’d love to see me up there, sharing something immediately gave me the confidence to really want to do it, and now I’m kind of hyped up about it. I told Calen that I’d like to talk about our collaring ceremony, well, not quite. I want to talk about our journey leading up to the decision to have a ceremony and make that kind of commitment to each other because it’s not a decision that either one of us took lightly, and it means a lot to me to belong to Caleb. He takes such good care of me.”

Draco smiled.

It was easy to see that Caleb was an excellent Dom. He always looked out for Stefan, cared about him, and went out of his way to make him feel safe and loved and protected. Draco imagined that their relationship wasn’t all that different from Harry’s and his. On the spot, Draco could only think of a single exception between their relationship and Harry’s and his. Caleb’s and Stefan’s D/s dynamic was a lot more defined, and whenever he was around Caleb, Stefan always referred to him as Sir.

Despite having a signed contract in place, one they regularly reviewed and updated, Harry’s and his D/s dynamic was a lot more fluid and most of the time Harry’s dominance over him and his submission to Harry started with a bit of playful banter. Sometimes it was just that, and sometimes it blossomed into something a lot more serious. Somehow, Harry always knew precisely what he needed, and whenever Harry asked him how he felt and what he wanted, well, that was just Harry’s way of encouraging him to be open about his needs and desires. It was something that he’d found very difficult in the beginning, but these days it was slowly becoming more comfortable, and he largely blamed it on the fact that he trusted Harry explicitly and unconditionally.

Stopping his musings about Harry’s and his relationship from taking over, Draco focused back on the conversation.

“Let me guess, and you thought I might be interested in signing up as one of the mystery speakers.”

Stefan nodded.

“Caleb is going to record each speech on video, and the speaker will receive a copy of their talk, although that’s subject to consent and if you’re not up for it then it won’t happen. I think Caleb is hoping to record enough material to put together a DVD or series of DVDs, but again, it’s up to each individual speaker whether they want to be included or not. What do you think? Is that something you might be interested in trying?”

Stefan rested back against the worktop beside the kitchen sink and shoved his hands into the pockets of his light-blue jeans. He was barefoot and slowly the sole of his left foot over the smooth wooden floor.

Draco eyed his apple and lifted it up to his mouth, but instead of taking a bite, he answered Stefan’s question.

“I think the idea is great and I’d most definitely be interested in attending, but I want no part in it.”

Stefan gave an incredulous gasp and shook his head.

“I don’t get you. Just imagine the surprised look on Harry’s face when you get up on that stage and share your story. You could talk about how he and you first met, or your special bond, or even just a really memorable or funny scene. A mishap, perhaps. Anything really. I think Harry would be completely blown away. It’ll be the surprise of a lifetime. As far as I know, Caleb hasn’t told him about his plan yet, so if you’d like to do something special, I’ll get Caleb on board, and he can arrange to make sure Harry shows up at the club on the night of your speech.”

Draco furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“Not in a million years,” he said.

Shuffling, he tossed the remainder of his apple into the wastebasket and washed his hands in the kitchen sink. After drying them with a single-use towel, he defiantly crossed them over his chest.

Stefan gave him a blank look, then his expression changed, and he looked rather inquisitive.

“I get that you’re really private about your relationship and I absolutely respect that, but I’m a bit curious, so if you don’t mind me asking, can I ask why the vehement refusal? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Draco took a deep breath and uncrossing his arms, he sighed softly. He knew he could say no to answering Stefan’s question and that Stefan would respect it, but despite his usual hesitancy to show his vulnerability to anyone but Harry, he trusted Stefan enough to be honest with him.

“It’s not getting up on stage in front of a bunch of people that I mind. I mean, I’m not a fan of sharing my private affairs with others, but I can see the allure and the educational value of it. It’s also fun.”

Draco paused and took another deep breath. He moved his hands behind his back and twisted and clasped his fingers together, then pulled them apart again.

“What is it then?” Stefan asked.

“Honestly? I almost feel a bit silly saying this, but I don’t like keeping secrets from Harry. Not even if the secret is a surprise.”

Stefan smiled.

He reached out, and when he nudged him gently, Draco couldn’t help but smile too.

“Don’t feel silly. I understand. I don’t think Harry would mind, though. He’s literally the most laid-back Dom I’ve ever met. I mean he’s tough, but… Why am I telling you this? You’re in a relationship with him, you know all that.

Draco chuckled softly.

He nodded.

“I do know all that. I absolutely know that Harry wouldn’t mind. About two weeks ago his best friend and I played a mean prank on him, and I think the moment I decided to prank him, he knew something was up, but he never said a word.”

Stefan’s eyes widened slightly.

“Really? No punishment?”

Draco shook his head.

“Nope. Just a very long conversation.”

“A verbal reprimand then?”

Draco shook his head again.

“No, it was just a normal conversation.”

Stefan gasped.

“Caleb would have put me in a corner or left me restrained to the bed in a timeout or something. You know I enjoy impact play a lot, so I never get pain as punishment, although I can tell you, Caleb knows exactly how to hit me, so it’s not in the least bit enjoyable. Even my masochistic little heart can’t take that.”

Draco smiled.

“We were hanging out with Charlie and Liam a while back, and Harry ended up being really cheeky with me. I wasn’t really in a strop, but I do like to put on a bit of show for him. He knows that, but he always lets me get away with it and finds some way or other to worm his way back under my skin, and I can never resist him.”

Stefan grinned.

“I know the feeling.”

“Honestly, when his best friend first pitched the idea to me, I was really excited about pranking him, and in a way, it was fun, but Harry and I are very honest with each other. I love that I can tell him everything and because I’m not used to keeping secrets from him, having to keep the plans for the prank from him started to eat me up inside pretty quickly. Didn’t take long for me to start feeling miserable about it.”

“And Harry noticed, but didn’t say anything and let you prank him anyway.”

Draco nodded.

“We put chilli sauce in his favourite dessert.”

Stefan winced.

“Fuck me, I occasionally like being a bit cheeky with Caleb, but I don’t even want to imagine what he would have done if I’d pulled a stunt like that.”

Draco shrugged.

“I was convinced he’d punish me. At some point, I even begged him for it, but let me tell you something, regret is an evil Master. I’ve told you before when Harry and I started dating, I knew nothing about the lifestyle. He struggled with whether or not to tell me for a couple of months, but eventually he did and ever since then, he’s been absolutely honest with me about everything, and it’s made me want to do the same. I’ve kept secrets all my life, and it never made me feel good, but I love the open and sincere relationship Harry, and I have. I don’t want to keep any secrets from him whatsoever.”

Stefan smiled.

“You know, I understand that completely. The beauty of kink is that it only works when people are absolutely honest with each other, and I think that forges a powerful bond between two people.”

Draco nodded in silent agreement.

Stefan nudged him again.

“You should talk about the way Harry, and you communicate with each other. It’s beautiful. I think you have an amazing relationship. Forgive my big mouth, but sometimes I look at the two of you together, and I can’t help but wonder why Harry hasn’t permanently collared you yet. If anyone should have a collaring ceremony, then it’s the two of you.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat a little and averting his gaze, he stared out of the kitchen window. It overlooked the small back garden with a small pond. Several golden and orange koi fish swam around in it, and the water reflected today’s bright autumn sun.

_Believe me, I thought about it more than just once_, he thought in response to what Stefan had said about Harry gifting him an eternity collar, but remained silent. He took a moment to collect himself, then turned his head and smiled at Stefan.

“Come on, let’s finish making tea and coffee. If we take any longer, both Caleb and Harry will come down here thinking we’ve abandoned them.”

Stefan grinned.

“Might give them a good reason to lovingly punish us later.”

Draco laughed.

“I think I already earnt myself a spanking, I don’t need to add to it, thank you very much.”

Stefan nudged him.

“You’re way too good.”

Draco snorted.

“I assure you, I’m not.”

Stefan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You love being Harry’s good boy.”

Draco smirked.

“Like you don’t love being Caleb’s good boy.”

Stefan laughed.

“Of course, I do, I never said otherwise. Listen, will you at least consider signing up as a mystery speaker?”

Draco swallowed a sigh.

“I’ll talk to Harry about it, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Sure. Just have a think about it, talk it over with Harry and let me know. I won’t lie, I’d love to see you up there, sharing, but I’ll respect any decision you make.”

Draco smiled.

“I appreciate it, Stefan, I really do.”

Stefan shrugged.

“No big deal. Yikes, I think I’m gonna have to boil the water again, I’m pretty sure it’s gone cold on us.”

“Chatterbox.”

Stefan grinned.

“Sue me.”

Draco laughed.

“I don’t sue, I prosecute, and trust me, you wouldn’t want to be the defendant. I show no mercy, and I always win.”

Stefan laughed.

“Harry said they call you a dragon.”

Draco chuckled.

“Just honouring my name.”

* * *

* * *


	20. A Whole Lot Of Talk About A Whole Lot Of Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the chapter title says it all, so I'm just going to leave it at that and wish you happy reading. I'm off to gag and whip the person who's been drumming all day. I can hear it even though the windows are closed. About to lose my mind... *sigh
> 
> Anyways...
> 
> Love,  
Selly x
> 
> P.S. My darling CB, there's a massive clue in this chapter for you. Get on it, Sherlock!

* * *

* * *

Harry reached for another handful of salted peanuts and stuffing one into his mouth, he slowly chewed on it and watched Caleb pay for their pints of Fuller’s hip new Honey Dew Ale.

It reminded Harry a little bit of Butterbeer, although when it came to flavour and texture, the two drinks had absolutely nothing in common.

Butterbeer was somewhat thick, really sweet with a hint of Werther's caramel candy, and once you swallowed it down, it turned a bit salty, much like butterscotch.

Compared to one of the Wizarding World’s most staple pub drinks, Honey Dew Ale imparted a gentle honey sweetness, both on the nose and palate. There was a hint of orange fruit flavours that rose up from the yeast, and overall it was refreshing and zesty.

Given a choice, Harry usually preferred to slowly nurse a tumbler of single-malt whiskey, neat, but tonight, Caleb had convinced him to give Honey Dew Ale a try, and since the alcohol content was low and it wasn’t as heavy as most beers, Harry was rather enjoying himself.

Caleb placed the chilled drink on the empty paper coaster in front of him, and turning his head sideways, Harry smiled and mouthed a silent thank you, which Caleb instantly waved off.

Draco was stuck in one of many preparatory departmental meetings for an upcoming, rather intense case, and while he’d made it clear that he was bored out of his mind, his memo had also included an animated crying smiley. In his postscript, he’d written that he couldn’t possibly slip away unnoticed, but wanted nothing more than to escape this blasted and entirely unnecessary waste of his time.

Feeling devious, Harry had sent a cheeky interdepartmental memo back to inform Draco that he’d take care of him once they both got home later tonight. He relished in knowing that upon reading his suggestive reply, Draco wouldn’t be able to stop his mind from running wild, and Harry rather liked the idea of Draco thoughtfully chewing on his favourite Muggle fountain pen while he was busy trying to make sure nobody noticed that all sorts of wickedly kinky thoughts were running rampant behind his carefully constructed mask of nonchalant indifference.

For some inexplicable reason, Harry had managed to finish all of his essential paperwork for the week well before five o’clock, which was something that happened once every blue moon. He’d, therefore, decided to take Caleb up on his offer to meet for a couple of post-work drinks to celebrate the start of the weekend.

Caleb, who’d come off a heavy twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse this morning, had spent most of the day sleeping, and presently looked a little rugged with a clear five o’clock shadow, but it was the sort of tiredness that could be easily fixed with a proper night’s sleep and a weekend of unrestrained fun with Stefan.

“Is it finished then?”

Caleb’s curious question pulled Harry out of his thoughts, and he brought his pint up to his lips and took a sip. The somewhat childlike gleam in Caleb’s eyes amused him, and as he set his glass back down on the coaster, he chuckled softly, then shook his head.

“Not quite.”

“Meaning?” Caleb asked.

He picked up his own drink and took a sip from it, then licked some of the foam off his upper lip.

Harry smirked.

He slid off the barstool, and slipping his right hand into the right pocket of his trousers, he closed his fingers around a small box. Carefully pulling it out, he cast a wandless, wordless enlargement charm to restore the black satin box to its original size, and placing it on a clean napkin on top of the bar, he pushed the lid up.

“This one is, I picked it up at lunch, but I decided to get Hira to make me a little something else.”

Caleb whistled.

“Magnificent,” he said.

Mindful not to touch the item inside the box, Caleb lifted the box up and inspected the handmade piece inside from various angles.

“Outstanding, Hira really outdid himself this time. That man is a genius. If magic were real, I’d say he’s a wizard.”

Turning his head away, Harry smirked, then resolutely bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from laughing at the irony of Caleb’s statement.

_If only you knew_, he thought, then picked up his pint glass and took a sip from his ale.

As he placed the glass back down on the counter, he took a deep breath, and feeling a lot more composed, he turned his head back and watched Caleb. He was still admiring the item inside the box, and although Harry had designed it himself, and had seen it slowly take shape, he still felt a sense of awe whenever he looked at the finished product.

He planned to take the box with him to Romania to get Liam to cast a couple of intricate charms on the item. He wanted an unbreakable charm, and something that ensured Hira’s piece of art was scratch-resistant, and then there were a couple more specialised charms, stuff that required a high level of concentration, meticulous spell work and the engraving of several ancient runes, which was a painstaking task. While he was reasonably confident that he was able to perform most of the charms himself, Harry trusted Liam’s expertise far more than he trusted his own magical abilities. He excelled at the kind of magic a good Auror needed to do his job well, but there were certain types of sophisticated charms and incantations terrified him just a little.

“Does the sasspot know?”

Grinning, Harry shook his head.

He took the box from Caleb, and closing the lid, he locked it with a gentle push of a somewhat hidden button.

“Blissfully unaware. He hasn’t got a clue, though he brought it up the other day.”

“Oh?”

Caleb raised a curious eyebrow at him, then reached for his pint.

“Tell me more.”

“It was after our bruncheon from the other day. We had a lazy evening at home that day, but when I went to put a film on, he asked if we could go for a walk instead, so we made a trip down to the Westminster end of Victoria Embankment and went for a lovely evening stroll.”

“Naw, you two are hopeless romantics.”

Harry chuckled.

“Sometimes,” he said.

Shrugging casually, he picked up his pint and slightly tipped it into Caleb’s direction in a silent toast, then took a sip.

“By the way, he told me about your new idea for the club.”

“The Mystery Guest Show?”

Harry nodded.

“Yup. He also told me that Stefan is very excited about it and tried to talk him into signing up as a guest speaker.”

Caleb grinned.

“Was my boy successful?”

Harry shook his head.

“Afraid not, although Draco does want to talk to me about it sometime next week. I told him we’ll find a quiet evening and sit down for a chat. You know him, in front of anyone but me, he guards his mind like a hawk fixes on its prey. After that he went all silent on me, then about ten minutes later, he just blurted it out. He just spilt all the beans. Got me all chocked up inside in the process.”

Caleb smiled.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at Stefan’s, that look in his eyes is truly precious.”

Harry chuckled softly, then nodded.

“You should see the way he looks at Liam’s. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone what it more, call me a romantic sap, but it makes my chest swell with pride, and my heart beat faster.”

Caleb laughed.

“Honestly, sometimes, I look at the two of you, and I wonder who’s got who wrapped around his little finger. You’re such a smitten kitten, it’s utterly heart-warming to watch.”

Harry smirked.

“Draco, of course. He knows I’ve got it bad for him, but what he doesn’t know is just how hard it sometimes is to say no to him or to be firm. I’d happily give him all he wants on a silver platter whenever he wants it.”

Caleb grinned, then threw an arm around his shoulder, and half sliding off his stool, Harry let his friend pull him into a one-armed hug.

“If you indulge him like that, you’ll actually end up with a brat on your hands.”

Harry snorted.

“You know what, Reid, for once I agree with you.”

Freeing himself from Caleb’s tight hug, he sat down properly and drank a little more of his ale.

Caleb laughed.

“Potter, that’s cause for a celebration. Do you have any specific plans yet? I don’t suppose there’ll be a party?”

Harry shook his head.

“Nope, I’ll keep it between the two of us. It’s what he would want.”

Caleb nodded in agreement.

“Sensible. Christmas then?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I might be a romantic at heart but no. I’ve a couple of ideas running around my head but nothing definite yet. Either way, I’m quite sure his eyes will pop out of his head when he sees it.”

“Well, mine nearly did, so I’d say, abso-fucking-lutely. Make sure you’ll have a bunch of issues at hand and whatever else your little sasspot likes for aftercare.”

Harry grinned into his pint.

“You know what, a holiday sounds good actually. On our first date, I promised him to take him to Canada. Might be a nice surprise to combine the two.”

Caleb nodded.

“I support that idea. If you do it right at the start of the holiday, you can spend the rest of the trip indulging in all sorts of kinky fun, and trust me it’ll be another level of kinky. Once you give it to him and he accepts it, that’s it, playtime isn’t ever going to be the same.”

“How so?” Harry asked.

An overwhelming sort of curiosity and the unquenchable desire to know more gripped him.

Caleb smiled knowingly.

“Well, it’s one thing to get kinky with the person you’re in a relationship with, but it’s a whole different kind of feeling when you get kinky with the person who wants to be yours for the rest of their lives.”

Harry reached for his pint and took a sip, then nodded slowly.

“You’ve got a point.”

Caleb chuckled.

“You’re strangely agreeable today, Potter. We should go out drinking more often.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“You’re full of it today, Reid.”

“Oh, there we go, Draco’s sass has most definitely already rubbed off on you.”

Harry gave Caleb a look that bordered on contemptuous.

“Did you inhale too much smoke on your last call this morning?”

Caleb gave him a lopsided grin, then shook his head.

“Nope, didn’t even go in. Coordinated from the outside with my lieutenants. A perk of being a battalion chief.”

Harry wanted to say something sarcastic in response to that, but he couldn’t come up with anything even remotely derisive to say. Caleb had a point. The higher up the chain you got, the less fieldwork was required of you, although Harry often made it a point to take a trip out into the field. He simply couldn’t stand remaining scooped up in his office all day while his Aurors had all the fun. It wasn’t so much about drawing his wand and actually participating in a duel that did it for him. The fact that he was not sitting on his behind in his office was enough to make him feel better.

“Cat got your tongue, Potter?”

Caleb mocked him affectionately, then clinked their glasses together and raised his.

“To you and that menacing dragon of yours.”

Harry smiled.

He raised his own glass and joined Caleb in a toast.

“To my menacing dragon,” he said.

He took a sip of his pint, then stared deep into the clear golden liquid, and grinned. He was excited and couldn’t wait to present Draco with his gift. It was precisely what Draco wanted, yet his little prince had absolutely no idea that he’d been planning this for several months. Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt rather pleased with himself, but his bladder distracted him from contemplating the matter any further, and sliding off his bar stool, he excused himself and told Caleb that he’d be right back.

However, before he managed to walk off into the general direction of the men’s room, Caleb held him back.

“I just remembered that offhanded comment of yours earlier. You said Hira is designing something else for you.”

Harry nodded.

“Yep.”

Caleb looked at him, curiously.

“What is it?”

Harry laughed.

“Not telling. That’s a secret I’m going to keep to myself for a little while longer. It’s something Draco is expecting even less.”

Caleb’s eyes widened.

“You’re seriously gonna ask him _that_?”

Harry raised his shoulders and let them drop again.

“No idea what you’re talking about, Reid.”

He reached for the black satin box with Draco’s gift, and walking off, he slipped it back into his right trouser pocket, and wandlessly cast a non-verbal shrinking charm. As he continued to walk into the direction of the toilets, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Back when he’d first spoken to Hira and solicited his help in designing a special gift for Draco, he’d provided Caleb’s friend with a haphazard sketch of a what he had in mind. Hira had taken that sketch and turned it into something that was beyond stunning.

The first time, Hira had told him to come by the shop and look the initial design, Harry hadn’t been able to come up with a single coherent thing to say to praise Hira’s extreme attention to detail. He’d simply stared at Hira’s work and gone off into a daydream, imagining Draco’s reaction to seeing the finished product. Harry didn’t expect Draco to be able to come up with anything intelligible either, and he was very excited about the prospect of witnessing that moment. A large part of him wanted to borrow Caleb’s Muggle video camera to record Draco’s reaction, though since he had a personal pensive that thought seemed rather ridiculous.

Still, once it happened, he wanted to savour the moment and cherish it for all time. He also couldn’t wait for Draco’s reaction to the second item he’d commissioned from Hira, and although he knew that the thing that was currently snuggly resting against his upper thigh, was bound to get a stronger reaction, Harry felt sure about what Draco’s response might be, though he didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

Also, his bladder was really demanding his attention now, and walking into the men’s room, he approached one of the urinals and hastily relieved himself, then washed his hands with soap and warm water, and after drying them with a paper towel, he returned to the bar to re-join Caleb.

* * *

* * *


	21. A Peculiar Package

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A plain title for a not so plain chapter?
> 
> To make up for the wait, I am humbly offering you 15.3K of smutty goodness; my longest smut chapter yet...and probably my best (or at least that's how I currently feel).
> 
> I'm hoping to give you all the feels along with all the sexiness, and perhaps reading this will send you right into subspace two. It took four writing sessions to complete, and I really am incredibly proud of myself.
> 
> I think I started on the finishing touch for this chapter around eight-thirty am this morning. It's now just gone three pm in the afternoon, and I can't wait to hit post. I'm really excited for you to read this.
> 
> As usual, the old LPK warnings apply. This is a proper smut chapter with a very healthy dose of kink, so no eating or drinking while you read. If you do, and end up choking, I take no responsibility for your subsequent trip to the ER. If you need a session with a Dom/me, I can offer advice on the vetting process but I am afraid Harry, Charlie, and Caleb are presently all unavailable...although if you proposition them nicely enough, you might just capture their interest.
> 
> To keep the suspense high, I've written the entire scene from Draco's POV, and since Harry planned the entire scene, he has absolutely no idea what is happening at any point of the whole play. This should make for an exciting read.
> 
> Since I'm ever so excited about this chapter, I'd love to know your thoughts, do share.
> 
> I have a whole bunch of correspondence to catch up, I am aware of that, but after posting this chapter, I'm going to need a bit of a break from the computer (also have a bit of a cold at the moment) and a healthy dose of coffee. I'll write replies later.
> 
> Excuse my lengthy ramble.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Draco elegantly stepped out of one of the designated Ministry fireplaces, and brushing off his prosecutor’s robes, he straightened them with the utmost care. They were neither crumpled, nor was there a speck of dust anywhere on them, but over the years, both actions had become a habit, and he performed them almost without noticing. If he did become aware of it, he hardly ever stopped himself.

Once he was satisfied with the state of his attire, he slowly made his way towards the Atrium, but stopped after a few steps and looked down at his black, highly-polished leather Oxfords.

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped foot into the Ministry on a Saturday morning for work. If he needed to put in a couple of hours of overtime, he preferred to stay at home or find a cosy coffee shop. Unsurprisingly, the place was practically deserted today. Bar the DMLE’s security guards, who were sitting in their booth perusing magazines and the Prophet, there wasn’t a single soul anywhere in sight. Draco’s footsteps echoed through the Ministry’s impressive entrance hall, and shuddering a little, he continued walking towards the Fountain of Magical Brethren in the centre of the Ministry’s foyer.

Before the war, and before Voldemort had temporarily taken over the Ministry, the fountain had depicted a tall wizard with smaller statues of a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf surrounding him. All figures had been made from pure gold.

After the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt had replaced the destroyed fountain with a new statue, one that correctly promoted equality amongst all magical beings. The wizard no longer towered over everyone else but was on par with the witch, the centaur, the goblin, and the house-elf. The broad golden band ran all around the fountain’s low wall, and pictures of various other magical creatures had been etched into it. Draco still fondly remembered the day Harry had brought Teddy to the Ministry. He’d excitedly run over to the fountain and started pointing out all the magical creatures, he already knew.

Draco chuckled to himself.

Harry had been mighty proud of Teddy that afternoon.

And jealous too.

Even though Teddy went to a Muggle primary school, he’d spent all his life around wizards and witches, and was, therefore, quite familiar with a lot of Magical creatures.

As before, all proceeds from the fountain were still given to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Draco halted a few feet away from the new statue and smiled.

Something about this new, post-war fountain always gave him pause.

These days, the inscription beneath the wizard’s statue read: _Never above you. Never below you. Always beside you._

For a moment, Draco let his thoughts wander and think about Harry’s and his relationship.

Even though Harry loved to dominate him, and even though he loved to submit, they always treated each other as equals, and it was one of the many reasons why Draco simply couldn’t get enough of surrendering all control to Harry. Even when kneeling, with his arms tightly bound behind his back, Draco didn’t feel worthless. Harry saw his submission as a gift and treated him with the utmost respect and kindness in return. Yes, he had rules, and yes, he demanded obedience, but there was something so inherently liberating about letting go and handing the reins over to Harry that just thinking about it was enough to send a surge of excitement through Draco.

Yes, he kneeled for Harry.

And yes, Harry towered over him.

But at the heart of it all, they were equals.

It wasn’t weakness that drove Draco towards letting go, and it wasn’t a thirst for power that drove Harry towards controlling him. To Draco, submission meant freedom, and to Harry, it meant being allowed to take care of him.

The restraints and ropes Harry liked to use on him weren’t tools he used to suppress his free will or quieten his desire to heard and to make a difference.

Quite on the contrary.

To Draco, being restrained and being in Harry’s ropes meant liberation from daily life and all the stress that came with it.

The pain wasn’t a form of punishment, but something that allowed Draco to feel truly alive.

It silenced his mind, quietened his thoughts, and allowed him to thrive.

Sometimes, after an intense scene with Harry or an extended period of continuous submission, Draco felt reborn, refreshed, reinvigorated. He felt like someone had cast the Reviving Spell on him, and like he’d been handed a potion that energised him. Draco imagined that Harry felt much the same way. Losing himself in his Dominant role meant letting go of all the responsibility he had at work and all the pressure that came along with it. Instead of having to focus on cases and meetings, he could concentrate on the one person he loved and cared for.

“Prosecutor Malfoy, Sir, Prosecutor Malfoy!”

A flustered young messenger boy with pitch-black dishevelled hair approached him holding a plain beige package in both hands.

Torn out of his private musings, Draco crossed his arms over his chest and focusing on the boy, he glowered a little, silently conveying his annoyance.

The boy’s face instantly turned red, making him look like a tomato.

Draco consciously softened his expression a little.

“Prosecutor Malfoy, I’ve got a package for you,” the boy said.

“Oh?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the boy, and uncrossing his arms, he dropped them to his sides. There was really no need for him to be hostile towards the messenger boy. He was entirely innocent.

This morning, an urgent message, delivered by owl, had interrupted his post-breakfast coffee with Harry, and after skimming over the contents of the note, he’d dashed upstairs to get dressed, kissed Harry goodbye and then hurriedly left for the Ministry.

The boy nodded.

“Yes, Prosecutor Malfoy, Sir. I’ve been instructed to come and find you here and hand this package to you.”

For a split-second, Draco felt tempted to ask the boy who’d instructed him to come and find him at The Fountain of Magical Brethren, but after hesitating for a moment or two, he dismissed any of his unfounded suspicions that anything untoward was going on.

It didn’t usually happen that he was summoned the Ministry on the weekend, but occasionally essential cases demanded exceptions. Apparently, this was one such exception. Draco wasn’t fond of it, but he was old enough to know and understand that it came with the job.

Shaking his head, Draco held his hand out, and the boy carefully handed the package over.

“Here you are, Prosecutor Malfoy, Sir.”

_Enough with the Sir already_, Draco thought but inclined his head politely.

“Thank you. Do I need to sign anything?”

The boy shook his head.

“No, Sir. It was my pleasure; I’ll leave you to it now.”

With that, the boy turned on his heels and dashed off.

For a moment, Draco glanced at the inconspicuously-looking package, then decided to examine it from several different angles. He didn’t feel like waiting until he got to his office. Whatever was inside the box was obviously important; otherwise, the messenger boy wouldn’t have come all this way to deliver it. The Atrium was still deserted, and the security guard in the boot behind him couldn’t possibly see what he was up to.

Deciding to delay his trip down to chambers, Draco drew his wand and magically sliced through the packaging tape, then holstered his wand again. As he did so, several galleons jingled inside one of the pockets of his robes, and placing his hand inside it, he closed it around the money. Pulling it out, he glanced at the handful of coins, he’d retrieved, and tossed them into the fountain. The water splashed a bit, and the coins sank right down to the bottom of the basin, joining the money that already lay there, waiting to be fished out and delivered to St Mungo’s Hospital.

Draco then turned his attention back to the package and slowly took the lid off.

At once, three things happened.

First, the package disappeared into thin air. It was just gone.

But before Draco had the chance to contemplate the oddity of that, a thin silver chain appeared. The brightly gleaming chain slithered around his wrists and pulled them together, binding them tightly.

Draco yanked at the restraints and opened his mouth with the very intention to let out a plethora of foul langue, but when he felt someone poking a pointed object into his back, he stood perfectly still, and the words ‘_what the fuck’_ died on the tip of his tongue.

“Stupid move, Malfoy, idiotic move really. And I thought Slytherins were smarter than that, yet here you are, breaking into the Ministry on the weekend. Couldn’t think of a better disguise, eh? It had to be a prosecutor’s robes… Well, I’m sure going to have my fun prosecuting you, Malfoy. It’ll be my pleasure to charge, arrest, prosecute, and throw you into one of our finest cells.”

Draco’s throat tightened, and every nerve ending in his body sent signs of distress to his brain which felt like it had lid up like Christmas Tree.

Harry.

That voice belonged to Harry.

This was Harry, making good on his promised roleplay.

Draco pressed his lips tightly together to suppress the desire to smirk.

Harry’s words continued in his ear, and even though Harry had fallen silent, Draco could still feel his warm breath on the side of his neck, his cheek, and the outer shell of his ear.

He shuddered.

“Don’t you even think about running, Malfoy, any attempt to flee and I’ll take you straight to Azkaban. It’ll be a one-way ticket for you. No more pretending that you’re Prince Charming.”

Draco swallowed hard.

His mouth felt dry, and his hands felt clammy.

Another shudder surged through him.

He’d never heard Harry speak like this before.

Sure, Harry knew how to convey authority when they played, but this was a whole different level of convincing, and Draco felt his knees buckle. Excitement flared to life deep in the pit of his groin, and his cock twitched excitedly. This was a whole new proportion of kinky and knowing Harry, he’d barely started the game.

Try as he might, Draco couldn’t think of a single coherent thing to say.

“Be a good boy, Malfoy, and come with me. It’s in your best interest to do as you’re told. You see, I have a habit of rewarding good criminals, especially when they do exactly what I tell them to do when I tell them to do. Bad criminals, however, well, those get thrown into the dungeons and tortured for days. The choice is yours, I’m good with either one, just depends on whether you can take my kind of torture.”

Draco could feel his heart thump wildly in his chest, and as Harry manoeuvred them around, he simply let him guide him towards the fireplaces. His thoughts were hazy, and his mind failed to focus properly.

Harry’s voice…

That voice.

Draco had no doubt that, before long, it would be his undoing. It always was. It made his face flush, his heart race, quietened his mind, and prompted rapt, attentive listening. It made him instantly, helplessly, achingly hard. Deep down, Draco knew that he’d do just about anything to hear Harry tell him that he was his good little prince, that he’d done well and pleased Sir.

About halfway over to the fireplaces, it suddenly occurred to Draco that he should probably put up at least a bit of resistance, and digging his heels in, he refused to take another step.

Harry growled right into his ear.

“Malfoy, I told you not to get any ideas.”

For a moment, Draco considered his options.

He glanced at his bound wrists and tugged on his restraints. They did not budge an inch. He hadn’t expected that they might. Harry’s restraints, magical or non-magical, were fool-proof. He wouldn’t be able to get out of them until Harry wanted him to lose those restraints. Swallowing a sigh, Draco stubbornly carried on refusing to continue to move forward and did so even when Harry attempted to push him.

“Bite me, Potter.”

Draco snarled the words, lacing them with as much venom as he could muster.

Behind him, Harry chuckled.

A second later, Draco felt a set of sharp teeth sink into his neck, and forcing himself to swallow the desire to fill the Atrium with his loud wail, he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

_Fuck,_ he thought.

Harry bit him hard, nearly piercing the skin. He sucked even harder, and Draco knew instantly knew that he’d be wearing turtleneck jumpers for at least a week, if not longer.

Draco gritted his teeth, and even though he could feel the tears sting his eyes, he tried his hardest to keep it together and focused on the fact that they were still inside the Ministry.

Eventually, Harry pulled away.

“Be careful what you ask for, Malfoy. I’d be happy to give you anything you want. All you have to do is ask. I’m nothing if not a good host. So long as you play by my rules, that is. Now, move it. I’d hate to have to use a different way to encourage you, but know this, if I have to, I’ll get physical.”

“This isn’t even the way to your office or the holding cells Potter,” Draco spat.

Harry laughed.

“Where we’re going is of no concern for you. All I want you to do is to stop being difficult. Last warning, Malfoy, or I’m going to start being rather unamenable myself, and that is not in your best interest.”

A light stinging hex hit Draco square in the arse, and he growled through gritted teeth.

“Fuck you, Potter,” he snarled.

Harry laughed again.

“You wish, Malfoy, you wish.”

Draco felt the tip of Harry’s wand dig even harder into his back and temporarily giving up on showing any sort of resistance, he obediently allowed Harry to lead him to one of the fireplaces.

With every step he took, he had to fight the growing desire deep inside of him, and his excitement continued to grow. A bit of fear lingered behind too, and the butterflies in his stomach flittered about maddeningly, unable to decide whether they were thrilled by what was about to happen or terrified of it.

Eventually, Draco settled on both ends of the spectrum. He wanted it all; the elation, and the terror, because despite this being a roleplay and Harry holding all the cards, he trusted Harry not to take it too far.

Once they finally reached one of the fireplaces, Harry had deliberately not picked the nearest one, Draco let Harry push him inside the empty furnace. As they stood inside the small space, Draco felt something covering his eyes and ears. Then, all he could see was blackness, and all he could hear was a strange buzzing noise. Harry’s hand instantly moved to one of his wrists, and Draco felt Harry’s thumb press against his pulse point. The familiar circling motion immediately settled his mind and calmed all of his fears, and even though he couldn’t hear or see, he felt safe and sound.

The familiar feel of apparition tugged on his navel, and as Harry apparated them away, Draco smiled.

He was ready.

Ready to play.

A few seconds later, the swirling stopped, and Draco found himself roughly pushed into a slightly uncomfortable wooden chair. The thin chains around his wrists disappeared but, in its place, leather restraints slithered around his wrists and ankles, securing him to the chair, and a minute or so later, the strange blindfold fell away, and he could both hear and see once more.

He blinked and looked around the room.

It looked exactly like Harry’s office at the Ministry and frowning, he narrowed his eyes and tried to find something that looked different.

He could not.

Draco swallowed hard and clenched his fists.

He couldn’t work out whether Harry had played him and they were still at the Ministry or whether they’d returned home to Grimmauld Place. His instinct repeatedly tried telling him that he was home, but there was a nagging doubt at the back of his mind, and no matter how hard he tried, it refused to dissipate.

_Relax, he’s just trying to fuck with you_, Draco told himself, and letting his eyes settle, he focused on the person sat across from him, behind the desk.

It was, of course, Harry, in his full Auror uniform and scarlet robes, and feeling his mouth water, all Draco could do was to repeatedly swallow. It was a pathetic attempt to stop the saliva from dribbling down his chin. His sanity went right out of the proverbial window, and his heart thumped even harder, threatening to explode his ribcage and burst right out of the centre of his chest.

Harry looked so fucking smug that Draco had to swallow again.

His cock twitched excitedly, and he wriggled inside his restraints.

He knew that they wouldn’t give, but he couldn’t stop trying.

“I’ve been fantasising about this day for years, Malfoy.”

Draco pressed his lips tightly together, scowled, and glared daggers.

“I see, giving me the silent treatment, eh, Malfoy? Not to worry, I’ll loosen that tongue of yours sooner rather than later.”

Draco growled.

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Potter,” he spat.

Harry smirked.

“I just loosened it, didn’t I, Malfoy? Took less effort than I thought it would.”

Glowering, Draco kept silent.

Harry chuckled.

“Have I ruffled your feathers already, Malfoy? And here I thought you had thicker skin than that.”

“Kiss my arse, Potter.”

Harry threw his head back, laughing.

“You wish, Malfoy. Nah, it’s gonna be you who’ll be kissing my arse quite soon.”

“Go to hell.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who knew the heir of the Malfoy fortune was such a potty mouth? Watch it, Malfoy, or I’ll stuff a sock between those pretty lips of yours. You’d look good with a pretty little gag in your mouth, yes, you absolutely would.”

Draco growled but consciously paced himself and swallowed his next insult right down, letting it pool in the pit of his stomach. He watched as Harry picked up a quill and toyed with it, twirling it between his fingers.

A couple of minutes of silence past between them, then Harry slowly leant forward and placed forearms on top of his desk. It was littered with stacks of case files. One of those files lay open in front of him, and leaning forward, Draco lengthened his neck a bit. He managed to make out his own photograph and full name, but couldn’t read any of the writing; however, it looked like Harry had meticulously filled out several investigation reports, as well as a few case reports and case updates.

Draco let his eyes linger on the open case file. He knew how long it took to complete these blasted forms and he couldn’t help but admire Harry’s attention to detail.

After another while, he slowly lifted his head and looked up.

Harry caught his gaze, held it with effortless ease, then smirked. It was a kind of playful, yet cocky smirk, and there was something decidedly lecherous in Harry’s eyes, but he had yet to act on it. Instead, he remained deadly serious.

“Trespassing onto Government property, impersonating an officer of the Wizengamot, resisting arrest, repeatedly insulting the Head of the Auror Department… My, my, Malfoy, you’ve got yourself in quite a pickle here. Those are some serious charges. Whatever should I do with you, huh?”

Draco thought for a moment, taking some time to consider his options. He could tell that Harry had most definitely done his homework; then again, he was the Head of the Auror Department and the Assistant Director of the DMLE. Still, he was using the correct terminology, and he was right in saying that neither one of those charges were misdemeanours.

Clenching his fists, Draco rubbed his fingertips against the inside of his palms and smiled.

“And I can explain all of these,” he said.

He tried his best to exude confidence while also remaining calm. Considering that he was presently restrained to a chair, he struggled somewhat, but he’d always been able to talk himself out of trouble and in court, he used words for a living. Draco couldn’t help but feel that Harry would, at the very least, give him a fair chance, or at least he fervently hoped that that’s what Harry planned to do.

Harry arched an eyebrow at him and smiled.

It was the kind of smile that told Draco, in no uncertain terms, but Harry held all the cards, and that he made the rules. While that excited Draco a lot, it also made him feel quite jittery. He watched as Harry slowly placed his quill on top of his desk. He sat back in his comfortable-looking office chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Go on then, I’d love to see you try and slither out of the trouble you’ve got yourself in, sneaky little snake that you are.”

Draco resisted the urge to smirk. Instead, he kept a straight face. He rather liked it when Harry brought house rivalry into the equation. It always meant that everything was fair play, though that also applied to Harry.

“Certainly, Director Potter. First of all, I did not trespass onto Government property. I received a summons via owl earlier this morning―”

Harry interrupted him at once.

“Do you have proof of this summons?”

Draco shook his head.

“Not on my person, no, but I would be happy to take you to my residence and show you.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yes, and probably have me accidentally activate some dark curse booby trap. You must think I’m thoroughly incompetent at my job, Malfoy.”

Draco tried his hardest to feign offence.

“I’d be stupid to wound or kill you in my own home, Potter, you complete and utter imbecile. Even a trainee Auror would be able to work out that I am the guilty party.”

“Yet more insults… We’ll have to do something about that ill-tongued attitude of yours, Malfoy. I can think of a few excellent ways to make you remember your good manners.”

Draco pursed his lips tightly together and swallowed hard. He hadn’t meant to show quite that much sass, but the insult had just slipped past his lips, and he’d been unable to stop it. Though, if he was entirely truthful, he thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to really lay it on thick. It had been too long since Harry, and he had bickered like that, and he’d genuinely missed it.

A nagging little voice tried telling him that he’d pay bitterly for his cheek, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Not just yet.

“If you give me the chance to prove my innocence with regards to trespassing onto Government property, I promise you, no harm will come to you.”

“Is that a threat, Malfoy?”

Draco frowned, but shook his head enthusiastically from side to side, then stilled.

“No, Potter.”

“The correct form of address is _Director Potter, Sir_. You nearly got it right once there, see that you don’t forget or I’ll make you remember. I’m rather fond of my title, and if you want me to listen to your pathetic attempts of talking yourself out of trouble, you’d better make sure not to forget.”

Harry gave him a pointed look, the kind that spoke volumes, and Draco couldn’t help but swallow hard.

The butterflies in his stomach continued to make summersaults and his cock pressed against the confines of his underwear and tight black trousers.

He loved this side of Harry, and every fibre of his body yearned to obey Harry’s instructions.

“Yes, Director Potter, Sir,” he said.

The moment the words left his mouth, a shudder surged down his spine.

Harry smiled.

“That’s so much better. Don’t you think so too, Malfoy?”

Draco wanted to smile back at Harry, but he decided against it.

Instead, he continued to justify himself.

“I also didn’t impersonate an officer of the court, Director Potter, Sir. I merely enjoy wearing fine black silken robes. These particular robes are made of Mulberry silk, which is the highest quality of silk on the market and costs a pretty galleon or five-hundred. Incidentally, the Bombyx Mori silkworm is considered the best source for this particular type of silk, Director Potter, Sir. I’m sure a man of your stature would enjoy the feel of such an exquisite fabric against his skin.”

Harry smirked.

“Flattery will get you next to nowhere, Malfoy.”

“My sincere apologies, Director Potter, Sir, that was not my intention, I merely thought you might appreciate quality.”

Harry snorted with laughter.

“Sincere my fucking arse, Malfoy. Care to explain why your robes bear the emblem of the Wizengamot and the Prosecutor’s Office on them if you’re not impersonating an officer of the court?”

Draco briefly glanced down at the Wizengamot crest on his robes, and for a moment, he froze. He’d forgotten all about it. Then he decided to hit Harry with every ounce of Malfoyesque charm that he possessed. He relaxed in his chair, stopped wriggling in his restraints, and smiled sweetly.

“A fake, Director Potter, Sir, a complete fake, I assure you.”

Harry regarded him for a moment.

His smirk grew more extensive, and he looked irritatingly smug.

“Tell your embroiderer that Wizengamot is not spelt with two z’s.”

Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

He was wearing his actual robes, and the Ministry embroiderer had most definitely not made a mistake with any of the robes, she’d produced, but if Harry accepted his explanation, who was he to argue? No, if Harry told him that he was off the hook for impersonating a Ministry official, he wasn’t going to linger on the subject but move on, as swiftly as he possibly could.

“Furthermore, Director Potter, Sir, I would like to note that I did not resist arrest. As you are aware, I did not draw my wand on your or attempt to flee, you should know, you were there. I was simply worried about where you were taking me. It seemed like you were leading me away from your office rather than towards it.”

“Well…”

Harry’s drawl was delectable, and Draco shivered at the sound of it.

“As you can see, Malfoy, we are in my office. Merlin knows why, but I decided to grant you a bit of dignity and apparated us straight in here. Would you have preferred me parading you down the DMLE? If you crave that sort of attention, I can rectify the problem at once. The door is right behind you. If you insist, we can also call the press.”

Draco shook his head rather vehemently.

“Please don’t.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, and clicking his tongue, he rather impatiently tapped his fingers against his biceps.

Draco swallowed hard, then corrected himself at once.

“Please don’t, Director Potter, Sir.”

Harry’s expression softened.

“That’s so much better, Malfoy. In society, manners are the be-all and end-all. Now, I’m feeling quite inquisitive. How you’re going to explain away the fact that you repeatedly insulted the Head of the Auror Department?”

Harry’s stern looks filled Draco with a sense of trepidation, and although he tried his best to hold Harry’s gaze, he couldn’t think straight while doing so, and after a while, he gave up.

Swallowing a sigh, Draco averted his eyes, pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it.

He thought and thought and thought, and when his mind finally settled on an idea, he hesitated for several moments.

This could either go horribly wrong or Harry would hand him the get-out-of-Azkaban-for-free card. Either way, it was his only option.

Gathering up his courage, Draco swallowed his apprehension and slowly lifting his head, he looked at Harry and smiled. He was aiming for a polite smile, but given his current level of excitement and the lingering sense of anxiety, that filled him, he had no idea whether his smile had the desired effect or whether it was making him look like a complete lunatic.

“Director Potter, Sir, I think you and I could perhaps come to an agreement about that. I would be more than willing to get in touch with my tailor and order you some handmade silken robes…you would absolutely love the feel of those robes, they are utterly exquisite. Or perhaps there’s something else you desire? Something a bit more physical? You’re a dashingly handsome bachelor, and while I’m sure that you can have just about anyone, I assure you I’ll be the best you’ve ever had. Whatever inclinations you may have, I’m quite confident we could settle on something…Director Potter, Sir.”

As he concluded his little speech, Draco attempted to use his most dazzling smile. He’d purposefully drawled the words, allowing them to fall from his lips like honey slowly dripped from a wooden honey dipper. He batted his eyelashes and stopped only short of blowing Harry a kiss.

For a moment, Harry remained silent, and his expression was entirely unreadable.

Draco held his breath, and continued to smile, though his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

Then, as though a switch had flipped, the look on Harry’s face turned dark, and he looked positively thunderous.

As Harry slowly rose from his chair, Draco felt his mouth go dry, and he curled his toes inside his expensive handmade shoes.

Harry moved his chair back, walked around his desk, and standing right in front of Draco, he reached out and gripped his chin hard, forcing him to look up.

Draco tried his hardest to ignore the pain but couldn’t tune it out entirely.

“Did you just attempt to bribe the Head of the Auror Department, Malfoy, _and_ try to proposition me, offering me kinky sex?”

Draco shrunk in his chair.

Harry’s eyes were blazing with anger, and although he knew that Harry was merely pretending to be angry, it looked so unbelievably real that his heart momentarily stopped beating, then began to race so fast that he felt lightheaded.

“Ignore my babbling, Director Potter, Sir, I didn’t mean a word of it.”

Harry laughed.

He threw his head back and actually laughed.

“Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, you’re in huge trouble now.”

A squeaking sort of sound escaped past Draco’s lips, and he shuddered.

“Please, Director Potter, Sir, I can explain.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Exactly how, Malfoy? You were quite clear. You first offered a monetary bribe and then a sexual one. There is literally no talking yourself out of this. I’m afraid it’s the holding cells for you, Malfoy. Don’t worry, it’ll be just for a couple of hours while I organise your punishment.”

Draco swallowed.

“No, Director Potter, Sir, please, don’t.”

“You can beg all you like, Malfoy, I don’t care.”

Draco felt his restraints come off, but before he managed to move any of his limbs, Harry had already dragged him to his feet and yanked his arms behind his back, forcefully restraining him that way. The pain that surged through his arms and spread into his muscles was perfect, but Draco struggled anyway. Not much, just enough to force Harry to tighten his hold.

“Please, Director Potter, Sir, I can explain.”

“You tried that, Malfoy, it didn’t work. I am charging you with attempting to bribe an officer of the law.”

Harry dragged him over to a door that let out of his office but not out onto the corridor, and although Draco didn’t want to follow him, although he tried to resist, he could do nothing but helplessly stumble along. Harry unlocked the door with the help of a magic spell, and opening it, he pushed him inside.

Draco’s eyes immediately fell on the solid iron bars inside the room. It was a holding cell, an exact replica of the Ministry’s holding cells, and even though he’d never been inside this particular room, he knew that there was one adjacent to Harry’s office. It functioned as both a holding cell and a private interrogation room.

“Please, Director Potter, Sir.”

“Quiet, I’ve got enough of your attempts to deceive me, Malfoy. If you’re going to be a bad boy, I’m going to treat you like a bad boy.”

Draco clamped his mouth shut.

He watched as Harry dragged the door to the holding cells open and roughly shoved him inside. Thrust forward by the momentum, he stumbled a few steps ahead, then found his balance and turning around, he ran towards the door, but Harry slammed it closed and locked it with an ordinary Muggle key.

As he pulled the key out of the look, he showed Draco his wand.

Draco’s mouth dropped open, and his hand almost automatically went to his wand holster.

It was empty.

Harry had disarmed him, and he had no idea when he’d done so.

He growled and flashed Harry his teeth.

Harry chuckled.

“Just so you are aware, these bars are fortified and swallow magic. Whatever spell you cast at them in an attempt to break free, even if it’s wandless magic, the bars are simply going to absorb your magic. The longer you keep at it, the more you’ll exhaust yourself. Make yourself at home, Malfoy, you’ll be my guest for a good few hours.”

With those words, Harry turned around and left him alone and the cell, and since Draco had no idea when Harry would be back, he slowly paced back and forth.

His entire being was thrumming with nervous energy, and the pacing helped him to focus. Despite his anticipation and mild trepidation, Draco’s walk wasn’t erratic. He moved at a steady and consistent speed and each time he turned; he felt his prosecutor’s robes billow around his ankles.

After a while, he gradually came to a halt in front of the thick iron bars, and slowly reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around the cold iron. It pulsed with magic, and for a second, curiosity pushed him towards stupidity, and Draco found himself considering casting a wandless spell. He wanted to see whether Harry had told the truth, and dithered for the longest time, but instead of eventually giving in to the temptation, he contented himself with the thrumming feeling beneath his fingers and tapped his fingers lightly against the thick bars that presently kept him confined.

Abandoning the idea of attempting to do magic completely, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead lightly against the cold metal bar in front of him.

Draco inhaled deeply and took a moment to allow his mind to settle.

_Your safeword is all it takes, Draco, always, you know that. If it’s too much, just yell that, or use our agreed sign, and we stop immediately. You know I will always honour your wishes and never break your trust in me. I will push your boundaries to excite you, but I’ll never push your limits to hurt you._

Harry’s words reverberated around his head, and he couldn’t help but smile.

He’d yet to use his safeword to prematurely end a scene, but over the last two years, he’d learnt a great deal about himself and his own headspace, especially during play, to know that it was entirely possible to reach one’s limits long before a scene was over. Something that he found immensely exciting and erotic today could be something he couldn’t bear the next day. The mind was fickle like that, and learning to accept that had only served to strengthen his trust in Harry. They worked as a team, even during play. It was a constant push and pull, and even though Harry usually took the lead and pulled and pushed a little harder, Draco consistently found that he enjoyed every aspect of their unique bond.

Some of their scenes were intense, emotionally, mentally, and physically, and each one could majorly mess with somebody’s head. Apart from playtime, even a period of medium to high protocol submission could result in that sort of reaction, something Draco had learnt the hard way a few months ago.

That was one of the reasons why Harry always remained vigilant and made sure to take extra precautions. He wasn’t infallible and freely admitted to his own weaknesses and anxieties, but he worked hard on improving himself. During a scene, he regularly checked in, and Draco loved that Harry always gave him time to adjust to a change of pace when Harry thought he needed it. It usually didn’t take him long to adjust. The knowledge that Harry honoured all his promises always helped him to let go of whatever tension was left in his body.

Harry had that one distinctive look, it was somewhat of an intense gaze, one that told Draco that Harry was entirely focused on him, and Draco succumbed to it every time. It filled him with a mental calmness, he’d never experienced before. With one steady and intent look, Harry conveyed an oasis of serenity amidst the bustling noise in his own head, and the longer he focused on it, the more Draco’s mind settled into a state of a calm, peaceful, and untroubled sort of trance. The longer they played with power dynamics, the more doors Harry opened in his mind, and the kind of self-awareness, Draco felt these days, made him feel complete, loved, treasured, and taken care of.

Feeling a bit more centred, Draco took one last deep breath, then slowly drew away from the iron bars, and straighten up. He gradually opened his eyes and let them dart around the cell.

Across from him was a single wall-mounted bed without a mattress.

Above the bed, several hooks allowed for the attachment of various restraints.

A plain black leather collar occupied one of the hooks, and Draco wondered how he’d failed to spot it while he’d been pacing the barred room.

He’d never seen or worn that particular collar before, and feeling decidedly curious, he strode across the cell and standing in front of the bed, he reached out for the collar. His fingers closed around the soft cool leather, and lifting it off the hook, Draco scrutinised it.

Except for the highly-polished O-ring at the front, it lacked any sort of decoration, though, given Harry’s level of deviousness, that didn’t have to mean anything.

Draco chuckled softly under his breath.

He curled the fingers of his left hand around the natural fabric of the collar, Harry had left behind for him, and with his right hand, he reached out and undid the clasp that held his elegant prosecutor’s robes together.

He slipped them off his shoulders and folding them neatly, he placed them on one end of the bed. The thought of spending the whole night locked inside this cell briefly crossed his mind, and a small shiver zapped down his spine, though it wasn’t because he felt cold or because he was afraid.

At this moment in time, he was excited, and since he didn’t know what Harry had planned, he had no way of calming his enthusiasm.

Aware that he was about to drift off into his own world, and possibly give in to the temptation to simply stand there and daydream, Draco forced himself to remain present.

He looked further around the room and spotted a plain metal chair, silver in colour.

A deep frown creased his forehead, and he chewed on the inside of his lower lip.

He could have sworn that the chair hadn’t been there when Harry had first thrown him into the cell, but the cream-coloured envelope in the centre of the seat was far too distracting for Draco to waste any time on racking his brains about the sudden presence of a chair.

Stepping forward, Draco tried to approach the chair, but when he got within two feet of it, a blue circle appeared all around the chair, and he was unable to step across it.

Furrowing his brows lightly, Draco looked around the room but couldn’t spot anything else that might give him a clue as to what prevented him from crossing the magical barrier. The letter continued to tempt him, drawing him in, and stomping his foot, Draco grumbled in frustration.

He wanted the letter but had no way of getting to it.

Several minutes past, and unsure of what to do, Draco simply stood in front of the simple, but handy, fence. It wasn’t an age line, but it certainly had elements of it.

Eventually, Draco’s eyes fell onto the collar in his hand, and weighing up his options, he decided to try his luck. He slowly brought the leather band up to his neck, wrapped it around it, then fiddled with the clasp to close it properly.

The moment, he’d adjusted it to ensure that it was neither too tight nor too loose, he could feel the clasp disappear, leaving behind a smooth, seamless leather band. Draco ran his fingers over the place where the buckle had been and smiled.

Apart from his duelling skills, Harry’s ability to weave magic into their play was indeed one of a kind, and Draco couldn’t help but feel in awe ― whatever book about magical BDSM, Harry had meticulously studied, Draco desperately wanted to get his hands on it. He sometimes thought of asking Harry about it, and while a large part of him was sure that Harry wouldn’t deny it, a small, but compelling part of his mind, prevented Draco from giving in to his curiosity. He wanted to remain in the dark about whatever magic Harry used. It positively thrilled him that, apart from his natural inclination to dominate, Harry possessed a kind of magic he was entirely defenceless against.

Draco closed his eyes for a few seconds and remembered all those times Harry had used a cheeky little spell to drive him wanton with lust, prolong his pleasure, or deny him his release.

He shuddered, and opening his eyes again, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva and tried his hardest to school his excitement. Bravely stepping forward, Draco made a second attempt to cross the magical barrier, and this time, the blue circle disappeared, and he was able to reach the letter.

Draco’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, and slowly ripping the sealed envelope open, he reached inside, and he pulled out a single folded parchment. As he opened it up, his hands began to shake, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself.

* * *

* * *

> _My perfect little prince,_
> 
> _How truly marvellous you are!_
> 
> _I knew you’d work out that you’d only be able to cross that barrier once you put that collar on. Consider this my way of checking in on your and making sure you’re still able to think clearly._
> 
> _Well done, sweet one._
> 
> _You amaze me, my little prince, you absolutely do._
> 
> _I’m so proud of you for doing this with me, and I’m confident we’ll both enjoy ourselves immensely._
> 
> _I’ll be back shortly to play with you properly, but before I return, I’d like to ask you to prepare yourself for me._
> 
> _So, my little prince, for starters, I want you to take off all your clothes. You won’t need them anymore today._
> 
> _As usual, make sure to fold each garment neatly, then place everything on top of the chair, and don’t forget your robes._
> 
> _After you’ve done that, **kneel**, my little prince._
> 
> _Yours,  
Harry_

* * *

* * *

“Yes, Sir.”

In response to Harry’s request, Draco whispered the words into the empty room, then promptly reread the letter several times, feeling himself blush at Harry’s praise.

After the third time, he stared at it for the longest time, then blinked and slowly folding the letter, he slipped it into the right pocket of his trousers.

He had no idea whether it was charmed to disappear or not, but he fervently hoped Harry would let him keep the note as a sort of sentimental souvenir. It was exceptional, and Draco wanted to read it another ten-thousand times, at least.

Once he’d put the letter away, Draco began to undress.

He did so unhurriedly, starting with his black woollen vest, and pulling it above his head, he folded it neatly, and placed it on the chair.

Next, he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, took that off too, and after folding it, he put it on top of the chair. While undoing his belt and trousers, he walked across the room to fetch his robes, then took off his shoes, and effortlessly slipped his trousers down his legs. He folded them, placed them on the chair, and taking his black socks off, he put those on the chair too.

Finally, he divested himself of his boxer briefs, though not without pausing briefly to trace the embroidery on the waistband. These days every single pair of his underwear bore Harry’s mark.

Draco smiled.

* * *

* * *

** _I belong to Harry James Potter._ **

* * *

* * *

Yes, he most definitely belonged to Harry James Potter.

Heart, body, and soul.

Without the shadow of a doubt.

Out of all the things he struggled to admit as truths, this wasn’t one of them. He was Harry’s and he often, and repeatedly, revelled in the thrill of Harry’s possessive claim on him.

A shudder surged through him, and folding his boxers, he placed them on top of his socks on the chair, and finally placed his shoes, soles up, on top of the pile of garments.

The moment he did so, all of his clothes disappeared from the cell, leaving him gloriously naked with nothing at all to cover any part of himself.

Draco tried his hardest not to look down at his achingly hard cock and clenching his hands into tight fists, he fought against the temptation to touch himself.

He had no idea how he managed to resist the urge, but instead of giving in, he swallowed, breathed deeply, then steadfastly moved to the centre of the room, and gracefully sank to his knees. He didn’t sit back onto his haunches but kept his torso perfectly aligned with his hips and thighs.

Lowering his head, Draco moved his hands behind his back. He crossed them at the wrists and rested them against his lower back.

The floor beneath him was hard and unforgiving, but he didn’t mind its pressure or its coolness.

In a way, it gave him peace of mind and anchored him, and although he hoped Harry would return soon, he was prepared to remain in this very position until Harry told him otherwise.

Shutting his mind off, Draco let his thoughts be thoughts, and instead of dwelling on ideas, problems, and plans, he simply settled in the here and now.

He closed his eyes, allowed the silence all around him to consume him, and as the minutes ticked by, he felt himself grow even calmer.

His heart stopped thumping quite so wildly, and his hands stopped shaking.

He breathed evenly, slowly, and deeply.

A single thought returned to the forefront of his mind.

_I’m His, I belong to Harry_, he thought.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and the thought became a feeling that enveloped him completely. He felt safe and secure and gradually slipped further and further into his submission until there was only one word left in his mind.

** _Sir._ **

Another minute or so past, then the door to Harry’s office opened.

Draco wanted to lift his head, but he resisted the urge and schooled his mind, refusing to give in to such a simple temptation.

He heard the key turn inside the lock, then Harry opened the door to the cell and stepped inside.

Draco slowly opened his eyes but still didn’t look up. His gaze settled on Harry’s heavy black dragon-hide boots, and he swallowed, then gasped when he suddenly spotted the tip of what could only be a cane.

A jolt of fear instantly unsettled him, and he felt his heart rate increase. He shivered, and as his hands began to shake again, Draco could barely resist the desire to flee. Every muscle inside of him had tensed up, and his skin was taut, pulled tightly across every inch of his body. He clenched his butt cheeks and felt some of his earlier arousal seep out of him.

Inhaling sharply, Draco forced himself to remain put, and instead of focusing on Harry’s shoes, or the cane, he let his eyes settle on the hem of Harry’s scarlet Auror robes instead.

He saw the cane move, and a second later, Draco felt the thin stick make contact with his leg.

It rested gently against the outer side of his right leg, just above his knee, and shuddering, Draco forced himself to remain perfectly still.

He closed his eyes again, and the cane travelled up, along his thigh, all the way to his hip.

Draco heard Harry take a step forward, the soles of his boots ground against the cement flooring, and then Harry gently tapped the cane against his buttocks. It didn’t hurt, but too focused on what he knew that cane could do, for he’d seen enough pictures to put him off ever wanting to experience such a level of pain, Draco felt unable to relax even the smallest muscle.

Harry grabbed his chin and forced him to lift his head, and Draco relished in the possessive force of Harry’s rough touch.

“Look at me.”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, then opened his eyes and met Harry’s gaze.

Harry was smiling, but he looked positively devious.

It was the kind of smile that made Draco question absolutely everything.

Their contract explicitly stated that the cane was his hard limit, and deep inside, Draco trusted Harry to honour his boundaries, but he was still afraid.

The cane terrified him and shaking like a leaf in the breeze, he swallowed and blinked slowly.

Harry’s expression softened a little, and Draco exhaled.

_He’s fucking with you, it’s just a mindfuck, relax_, Draco tried to appease himself over and over again, but the feel of the cane made it impossible for him to loosen up completely.

He shuddered again.

Harry moved he cane, slowly letting it slide down the back of his thighs.

Draco was sure that Harry was deliberately playing with him. He felt the cane rest against his calves, and as Harry winked at him, Draco swallowed hard.

Harry then let go of his chin and brought the cane up to about chest height, inspecting it carefully and thoroughly. He let his fingers glide over the smooth material, then gripped the handle and whooshed it through the air.

Draco’s stomach twisted, and he hastily took a calming breath. Unable to take his eyes away from the cane, he gasped when Harry suddenly lowered the implement again and tapped it gently against the inside of his left thigh.

“Spread them further.”

Draco didn’t even hesitate.

Despite his fear, he followed the order immediately, and shuffling, he moved his knees further apart, and when Harry tapped the inside of his other thigh, he spread them further still.

His thigh muscles burned from the effort, but instead of focusing on that, he watched as Harry inspected the cane yet again. He did it with a kind of deliberate ease that both terrified and thrilled Draco.

He still didn’t want Harry to strike him with the cane and doubted that he ever would, he trusted Harry explicitly, and even though his safeword tethered on the tip of his tongue, he swallowed it right down and decided to pin his faith on all the promises Harry had made him.

Harry smiled.

Draco had no doubt that he could read him like a book.

“Scared, Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco relaxed instantly.

He couldn’t help but smile in return.

Check-in number two.

He suppressed the urge to chuckle.

“You wish, Potter.”

Harry grinned.

“I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?”

“Do your worst.”

“You bet I will.”

Following his declaration, Harry brought the cane up again and casually continued to inspect it.

Suddenly a swoosh of magic wisped around the room, and shuddering, Draco watched, transfixed, as the cane slowly morphed into a riding crop of exquisite quality.

Draco felt his mouth drop open, and without the slightest warning, all of his fear fled his body, and he felt himself relax. Arousal flooded him, igniting every single nerve ending in every corner of his body, and he swallowed hard. He stared at the riding crop with hungry eyes and a single word fell from the tip of his tongue and slipped past his parted lips.

“Please.”

Harry merely looked at him but didn’t acknowledge his desperate plea in any way.

There was a genuinely devilish glint in his eyes, and Draco clenched his hands into tight fists. He wanted to feel that crop against his skin and wanted it to leave marks all over his arse, the back of his thighs, and the inside of his legs. His heart pounded in his chest, and filled with an intense yearning to beg Harry until he gave in, he was about to plead his case, when Harry placed a single finger across his lips and shook his head.

“No.”

Draco swallowed.

He inclined his head in silent understanding and remained completely quiet.

“Close your eyes.”

Draco obeyed Harry’s order without hesitation.

He felt Harry’s Auror robes brush against his naked skin, felt and heard Harry circle around him several times, but didn’t feel the crop, not even a gentle tap or a light caress. His anticipation grew, and shuddering, he desperately fought against the desire to break his vow of silence and beg Harry after all. He’d never wanted a spanking as badly as he wanted it right now.

_I’ve been a bad boy, and I deserve to be punished, I’ve been a bad boy, and I deserve to be punished_, _I’ve been a bad boy, and I deserve to be punished_, the thought ran rampant in his mind, and when Harry eventually rested the crop’s tress on his shoulder, he felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his thoughts and feelings.

A shudder of epic proportions surged through Draco, and he gasped. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and confused as to whether Harry was in front of him, next to him, or behind him, he tilted his head slightly and promptly got his answer.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, grabbed it, and tugged on it. It didn’t really hurt, but from the way Harry had woven his fingers through his hair, Draco could tell that Harry presently stood behind him.

He shivered, then felt the tress move. It travelled along his shoulder to the centre of his neck, then down his spine.

Once Harry had reached his lower back, he ran the tress up Draco’s left arm, then repeated his earlier motion. Draco felt him caress his shoulder with the soft leather tress, then shuddered when it travelled down his back, then along his right arm.

_Please, please, please_, Draco pleaded with Harry in his head.

Harry continued to torment him, caressing every inch of his body with the crop. When he let the long shaft slide between his arse cheeks and rubbed the tress against Draco’s balls and the length of his throbbing cock, Draco gasped, then let out a little moan.

He heard Harry chuckle, then his torment continued.

The tress travelled all over his legs, the inside of his thighs, and when Harry tapped his soles lightly, Draco curled his toes.

The only place Harry avoided, almost like the plague, was his behind. He didn’t caress it with the tress, didn’t tap it, and most definitely didn’t spank it.

Draco’s desperation grew, and even though his heart continued to thump in his chest, and his anticipation stubbornly refused to subside, he resigned himself to the fact that Harry had no intention of spanking him. He was merely teasing him, driving him wanton with lust and delirious with desire.

Minutes passed, and Draco struggled to resist the urge to beg. His arse thrummed and throbbed. He wanted the pain so badly that he could barely think straight. A thick sort of haze seeped into his mind and settled around his thoughts, and whimpering softly, he felt his eyes fill with tears. The salty liquid stung and Draco’s eyelashes grew wet, but he stubbornly refused to give in and cry.

Then, all of a sudden, everything changed.

The tress left his body, and Harry moved.

Draco felt a wisp of fresh air, but barely had the time to connect the dots before the first blow landed.

It was harsh and unforgiving, and his right arse cheeks felt like someone had set it on fire. It stung, and burnt, and thrummed, and throbbed, and Draco let out a low moan as the pain washed over him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Harry clicked his tongue next to him.

The reprimand cut through the pain and the haze, and Draco instantly corrected himself.

“Thank you, Director Potter, Sir.”

“Good boy. That’s so much better, Malfoy.”

Draco felt the tress against the burning flesh of his red arse cheek and whimpered. The soft touch prolonged the exquisite pain, Harry had just subjected him to, and before he’d had the chance to properly digest the stinging blow, Harry smacked him again.

This time the tress landed on his left cheek, and gasping again, Draco lost himself in the sensations. They flooded every inch of him, and when Harry ran the tress up and down his back, he felt himself shudder and shake. Harry tapped his fists lightly, and loosening his fingers, Draco exposed his palms and gasped when he felt the edge of the tress tease the inside of his hand.

After that, another blow landed on his right arse cheek.

The fourth one struck on his left, then a series of blows rained down on his arse, deliberately striking him in various places, though quite often repeatedly hitting the same spot over and over again. His arse burnt. It throbbed and thrummed. The sting of each smack travelled up his spine, and down his legs, and Draco curled his toes, clenched his fists and whimpered, moaned, and euphorically thanked Harry every so often.

Harry struck him over and over again, sometimes lightly, and sometimes harshly, and Draco never wanted this session to end. He wanted his arse to gleam red for the rest of the day and all of the night. He wanted Harry to mark him good and proper, and when Harry struck him across the back of his thighs, and even between his legs, Draco felt floaty, utterly alive, and completely intoxicated. He lost count of the blows, or how much time had passed since Harry had smacked him for the first time, and when Harry eventually slowed down and finally stopped, Draco was higher than high.

His arse felt hot, and every inch of it buzzed with a dull sort of pain that was simply delicious. When Harry grabbed and squeezed the back of his neck and pushed him forwards, he didn’t even attempt to resist.

“On all fours.”

Draco moved his hands from behind his back and obeyed. He kept his eyes closed, and aware that Harry had crouched down beside him, he inhaled deeply. He could smell the leathery scent of Harry’s boots, the heavy and musky smell of Harry’s arousal, and that fragrance that was so uniquely Harry, that Draco instinctively knew it would take more than a lifetime to forget what Harry smelled like. Draco’s mind struggled to supply him with the adequate vocabulary to describe the scent that presently assaulted his nostrils and abandoning the idea of coherency, Draco relished in the feel of Harry’s fingers curling into his hair.

He felt Harry’s hand slide down his spine, rest on his lower back, and finally move to squeeze and knead one of his arse cheeks. The touch of Harry’s bare hand rubbing against his sensitive flesh intensified the pain, and Draco shuddered. He let the sensations wash over him, and whimpered softly.

Harry squeezed his throbbing arse repeatedly, scratched his nails over the abused skin, and finally struck him with the palm of his hand.

Draco gasped and moaned.

Harry struck him again.

“_Ngh._”

A third blow.

A fourth.

Draco keened.

_Yes_, he thought, _yes, yes, yes_.

“Bad boys like you need to be spanked until they promise to be good.”

Harry’s words felt like a fifth blow, and when Harry actually struck him, it only served to amply the sensations tenfold.

“Merlin, would you look at that gorgeous firm arse of you, it’s gleaming red.”

Draco moaned.

Harry squeezed his right arse cheek tightly, scratched him with his nails, then struck him again.

Once.

Twice.

Trice.

Draco whimpered.

Harry subjected his left arse cheek to the same treatment, then, quite unexpectedly, blew cold air over his right arse cheek before sinking his teeth into the tormented flesh, biting him hard.

Draco yelped and groaned.

_Fuck me, please fuck me, please, please, please_, he begged in his mind but remained perfectly quiet.

Harry struck the bitemark, he’d just made, then proceeded to spank him with his bare hand a little while longer, though he didn’t just spank him. He caressed, teased, tortured, bit, scratched, kneaded, and rubbed his palm over the sensitive flesh, and by the time, Harry finally pulled away for good, Draco couldn’t focus on anything but the fierce burn all over his arse. He didn’t even attempt to try and direct his attention to anything else, and grinning goofily, he swayed a little from side to side, knowing he’d definitely feel every single blow for hours to come.

He was vaguely aware of Harry moving away from him.

Footsteps.

The chair moved, its four legs scraping against the stone floor.

Draco didn’t lift his head and didn’t open his eyes.

A minute or two of complete silence past between them, then Harry ordered him to look at him.

Draco slowly raised his head, and blinking, he tried to adjust to the low light in the cell.

Harry had placed the chair right in front of the open cell door and was now sitting on it with his legs spread far apart and his Auror boots firmly planted on the ground. His robe had fallen open to reveal his uniform, and blinking again, Draco swallowed hard.

Harry seldom wore his full uniform, not even at work, and only for special occasions, but today he’d made every effort to put on his entire uniform.

Draco felt his mouth go dry, then it filled with a swell of saliva. The riding crop lay on the floor, right next to Harry’s feet, and while his left hand was casually resting on top of his left thigh, his right hand was casually kneading the bulge in his trousers, and he rubbed his palm over the clear outline of his thick hard cock. Draco swallowed hard, but his mouth only filled with even more saliva and a drop of it escaped him. It dribbled down his cheek, and Harry smiled.

He looked devilishly handsome, and Draco’s heart skipped a beat. His cock hardened further, twitching and silently begging for attention, and his balls tightened considerably. His tight hole fluttered, and Draco couldn’t think of anything but feeling Harry’s cock inside of him. He wanted Harry to fuck his mouth until he gagged and torrential rivers of drool ran down his chin and dripped onto his chest and then he wanted Harry to fuck his arse. He wanted Harry to pound into him and grab his hair as he did so. He also wanted Harry to restrain his arms behind his back, yank his wrists up to right between his shoulder blades and push him down while he took his pleasure.

Letting out a desperate whimper, Draco licked his lips.

Harry chuckled softly.

“Let’s talk about your filthy little attempt at trying to bribe me, Malfoy,” he said.

Draco shivered with excitement.

He opened his mouth to try and respond, but Harry shook his head.

“Hush, not a word.”

Draco closed his mouth again and nodded in silent understanding.

“What did you say earlier, Malfoy? Whatever inclinations I may have, you’re quite confident we’ll settle on something, isn’t that right?”

Draco blinked and inhaled deeply.

His cock twitched violently, and his thrumming arse wanted to be fucked so badly, and he was prepared to do absolutely anything for Harry to fuck him and allow him to come.

He watched as Harry undid his belt, popped the button of his trousers, and, slowly dragged the zipper down. His trousers fell open, and reaching inside, Harry pulled his cock out. It was fully erect, thick, and hard, and its tip was a deep shade of red. It glistened with precome, and Draco licked his lip.

Harry stroked himself leisurely, let out a low moan, and fixed him with an intent stare.

“I want you to crawl over here, Malfoy, and I want you to suck my cock. I want you to swallow every inch of it. Show me exactly what that sassy mouth of yours can do, and if you beg nicely, I might even let you swallow my come. If you don’t manage to satisfy me, and I’ll have to finish myself off, I’ll come all over your face, and then I’ll leave you in here for the night. What do you think? Can you pull this off?”

Draco swallowed hard.

He was confident that he could satisfy Harry, he’d done it many times, but he was also very conscious of the fact that Harry might just play dirty. Still, he loved sucking Harry off and being allowed to pleasure Harry with his mouth meant that right this moment, Harry was delighted with him.

Taking a deep breath, Draco prepared himself to answer.

“I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had, Director Potter, Sir.”

Harry grinned.

“You’re setting the bar quite high there, Malfoy. Come here then, let’s see what you can do.”

Not needing to be told twice, Draco salaciously crawled over to Harry. He let his hips sway from side to side, and once he’d crawled in-between Harry’s spread legs, he dutifully placed his hands behind his back and licking his lips, he leant forward and engulfed half of Harry’s cock all at once. He felt Harry’s hand slide to the base of his cock, then he removed it altogether and a moment later, Harry’s fingers were in his hair, forcing him down, forcing him to swallow more of his cock.

Draco inhaled through his nose, and making damn sure not to graze Harry with his teeth, he relaxed his throat muscles, and closing his eyes, he lost himself in the sensation of having Harry’s cock fill his mouth. He sucked, used his tongue and lips, and plenty of salivae to make the experience as pleasurable as possible.

Harry continued to hold him down until breathing became a chore, then relaxed his vice grip and allowed Draco to slowly pull off his cock. Draco breathed deeply, suckled on the head of Harry’s hard prick and lavished it with attention. He swirled his tongue around it, sucked on it, squeezed it with his lips, and bobbed his head up and down, gradually taking more and more of Harry’s cock.

Once again, Harry grabbed his hair tightly and pushed him right down, forcing him to swallow every inch. Draco’s eyes burnt and watered, and he blinked, but the tears fell anyway. His mouth was full, his throat constricted, and a thick coating of his drool covered all of Harry’s cock.

Harry held him down for close to sixty seconds, then released him, and coming up for air, Draco swallowed past his reflex to gag, and continued to blow Harry. They alternated between him being allowed to do his own thing, and Harry holding him down, and as Harry gradually approached his orgasm, he stood up and standing in front of Draco, he fucked his mouth.

Draco relaxed his throat muscles even further and simply let it happen. His face was wet with tears, and his lips red, swollen, and covered in drool. He had no way of stopping it from making a complete mess of his chest but didn’t care. Harry’s balls repeatedly slammed against his chin, and looking up at Harry with big watery silvery-grey eyes, Draco smiled around Harry’s cock.

Harry held his gaze for the longest time, then finally threw his head back, and twisting all ten fingers tightly into Draco’s hair, he let his orgasm wash over him and came down Draco’s throat. The swell of come made Draco gag a little, but he bravely swallowed it all down and suckled on Harry’s cock until it began to soften.

After a while, and when he had enough, Harry pulled away, and sitting back down on the chair, he unceremoniously tucked his now spent cock back inside his trousers, zipped them up, fiddled with the button and fastened his belt.

He was somewhat breathless and starry-eyed, and beneath his heavy five o’clock shadow, his cheeks were gloriously flushed.

Draco smiled and licked his lips.

“Thank you, Director Potter, Sir, you taste absolutely amazing.”

Harry smiled but said nothing further.

Instead, he let his eyes travel all over his body, and Draco felt his arousal rise once more. He shuddered, and felt his cheeks heat and flush what he presumed to be a deep shade of red.

“Desperate for some attention, are we, Malfoy?”

Draco didn’t dare to glance down at his cock but nodded.

Sucking Harry off and turned him on even more and his cock felt like it was about to explode. His balls were tight, and he was desperate, but he knew that there was no point to ask Harry to allow him to come, he knew the answer already.

** _No._ **

Harry wasn’t done playing with him, and he most definitely wasn’t done tormenting him.

After that delicious fuck in the shower last week, Harry had ceased all play and none of his touches had been remotely sexual. There’d been no naked cuddling, no spanking, no passionate kissing, and most definitely no sex. It had driven Draco to the brink of insanity, though he now slowly began to understand why Harry had done what he’d done. After a whole week of no sexual attention whatsoever, Draco felt starved.

He craved Harry’s touch so badly that he was prepared to do absolutely anything to get it. He wanted Harry to fuck him, and he wanted to come, but he knew that asking Harry for any of those pleasures was entirely useless right this moment. He’d given up his right to make any decisions about if and when he was allowed to come, and Draco knew that Harry intended to milk his desperation until he cried and begged and pleaded and cried some more. Today, Draco was ready to do all of that and more.

Harry smiled.

He made no move to get off his chair but rearranged his robes slightly.

“You know Malfoy, I do like a bit of a show, and I enjoy watching a fit bloke pleasuring himself, working on getting himself off, except I’m entirely disinclined to let you come any time soon. That hard prick of yours is making you perfectly obedient, and I just know you won’t dare to talk back because if you do, you can forget about your own release. I’ll leave you hanging and desperate, and I won’t lose any sleep over you not getting to orgasm.”

Draco swallowed hard.

“I’ll do whatever you say, Director Potter, Sir,” he said.

He kept his voice low and swallowed past the rough feeling in his throat.

Harry chuckled, then raised an eyebrow at him.

“Will you now?”

Draco nodded.

“Let’s test that theory then, Malfoy. Crawl over to that bed over there and kneel on it, spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

Draco pulled his arms out from behind his back and obediently crawled over to the bed. He climbed on it, and facing Harry, he kneeled just as instructed and placed his hands behind his back.

Harry got up from his chair, pushed his hand into his trouser pocket, and pulling out two shiny nipple clamps, he slowly strode across the room. The sound of his boots hitting the stone floor beneath him echoed through the room, and once he stood in front of Draco, he reached out and pinched both of Draco’s nipples at the same time.

Draco gasped and moaned softly.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Director Potter, Sir,” Draco whispered.

His throat felt a bit rough and raspy from Harry fucking it.

Harry smiled.

“Let’s see how much you’ll enjoy these.”

He attached the nipple clamps, and as he adjusted their tightness, Draco whimpered softly and closing his eyes, he focused on the exquisite pain of his sensitive hard nipples being squeezed tightly between the unforgiving clamps.

Harry twisted the clamps a bit, then pulled on them, and Draco keened.

“Please.”

Harry chuckled.

“Please what, Malfoy?”

Draco opened his eyes again and looked up at Harry.

Harry gripped his chin and held it tightly.

“There’s a bottle of lube and a toy beside you. I want you to fuck yourself with it, and I want you to put on a proper show for me. But, a small word of warning, it’s not your average toy, and it’s not your average lube. Also, don’t even think about touching your cock. If you do, I’ll transfigure that crop back into a cane, and you’ll get the beating for a lifetime.”

Draco swallowed hard.

His throat constricted and unable to articulate himself with words, he simply nodded.

Harry smiled.

He let go of his chin, then leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s damp forehead.

He lingered for several moments, and feeling his throat relax, Draco cleared it.

“I’m OK,” he whispered.

Harry slowly pulled away and ran his fingers gently through his hair.

“Good boy. Now put on a proper show for me.”

Draco nodded.

Harry moved away from him and sat back down on the chair. He placed his right ankle on top of his left thigh, just above the knee, and casually rested both hands in his lap.

Draco looked down, and to his left he spotted a midnight-blue bottle of lube and a black dildo. It resembled Harry’s cock but was slightly thinner and had a little nob especially suitable for prostate stimulation.

Taking the lube, Draco flicked the lid off, and trying his best to neither focus on his red thrumming arse, or his throbbing cock, he poured a generous amount of the thick clear liquid into the palm of his hand. It felt and looked like ordinary lube, except that it was comfortably warm instead of cold, and Draco frowned lightly. He had no idea whether Harry was fucking with his mind again, but he decided to remain cautious, and slowly moving his hands, he used one to spread his arse cheeks open, and the other to smear a decent amount of lube all around his tight hole. It fluttered at the pleasant warmth and feeling himself relax, Draco circled a single finger around the furrowed skin, loosening the muscles up even further.

Eventually, he slipped his finger inside his tight hole, and slowly fucking himself with it, he pushed it deeper and deeper into his own body, crooking it slightly to tease his prostate. After a while, he added a second finger, and relishing in the feel of having his hole filled, even if it was just his own fingers, he closed his eyes and took his time preparing himself.

He closed his eyes, licked his lips, and dragging his bottom lip into his mouth, he bit it gently, then let it slip out from between his sharp teeth. He moaned softly, and feeling rather blissed-out, he continued to fuck himself a bit faster but stopped when he felt a shockingly cold sensation nearly freeze the inside of his arse.

His eyes flew open, and settling on Harry, he let his mouth drop open and looked at him with an expression that he felt was more comical than questioning.

Harry smirked.

“I told you it’s not your average lube. Now take the toy.”

Draco swallowed hard.

He pulled his fingers out of his arse, and reaching for the toy, he apprehensively glanced at the lube, but knowing that he’d need more of it, he squirted a generous amount of it onto the toy and coated it with it. He also squeezed more lube onto his hand, rubbed it all over his hole, and pressing the head of the black silicone dildo against his hole, he delighted in the burn that preceded penetration.

To his astonishment, the toy began to warm up, and combined with the lube, it coaxed his muscles into relaxing and allowing the dildo admission into his tight channel.

Draco slowly pushed the toy inside of him, half expected it to start vibrating, but couldn’t help but focus on the delightful warmth the dildo emitted. His muscles spread themselves, and even though they still burnt from being spread apart, Draco couldn’t get enough. His cock throbbed, and his arse cheeks thrummed, and his tight channel both burnt and felt incredibly alive. He pushed the toy even further inside, then slowly pulled it back out and repeated the process.

The warmth increased, and letting his eyes fall closed, Draco slowly fucked himself with the toy. The little nob placed just the right amount of pleasure on his prostate and wave after wave of arousal surged through him.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Harry’s voice pierced right through the little bubble, he’d created for himself, and slowly opening his eyes, Draco blinked and focused on Harry, who smiled at him.

“Does that feel good?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes,” he breathed.

Harry continued to smile.

“Good. Don’t let me stop you. Play with your nipples. I didn’t put these clamps on there for nothing.”

Draco swallowed hard.

He pulled the dildo almost all the way out and then slowly pushed it back inside, feeling it expand just a little inside of him. The heat radiating from it was truly delicious, and blinking several times, Draco forced himself to focus. He kept his eyes on Harry, and bringing his free hand up, he tugged on one of the nipple clamps and twisted it until he pulled a gasp from the depth of his throat.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“You can do better than that. I want to hear more than just a pathetic gasp, Malfoy. If you want your freedom, you’ll have to earn it.”

A wave of hot arousal surged down his spine, and Draco twisted the clamps harder and pulled more viciously. His clamped nipples responded beautifully, and he relished in the exquisite pain. It started in the centre of his nipple, then flared through his chest and surged right down to his cock and into his arse, making his prostate throb against the dildo.

Draco moaned, gasped, panted, and eventually let out a low groan.

“Much better.”

Harry’s praise sent another surge of arousal through him, and he tugged hard on both clamps, very nearly pulling them off his nipples. They were dark red and sore, but Draco couldn’t get enough of the sensations, and so he continued to draw and twist and letting out a long moan, he pushed the toy a little deeper inside of him, then pulled back and slammed the toy all the way inside. His arse protested just a little, but he cared not.

Keeping his eyes locked on Harry’s face and the expressions of delight that flitted across it, Draco couldn’t help but want more.

He began to fuck himself harder and faster, letting the toy slide in and out of him at a rapid speed.

Then, all of a sudden, he froze again. The dildo’s warmth had all but disappeared. Instead, his arse felt like someone had shoved half a dozen ice cubes up there, and swallowing hard, Draco slowed down and stopped.

There was a devilish smile on Harry’s face and groaning, Draco ceased to play with himself.

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Do you have enough already?” he asked.

Draco shook his head.

“Then continue.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, but when Harry clicked his tongue disapprovingly, he decided to obey.

Fighting against the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, Draco slowly pulled the dildo out of his hole, then slowly inserted it again. The cold shock gradually subsided, and the pleasant heat returned. His prostate began to respond to it, and he made sure to rub the toy’s little nob over it. He really wanted to grab his cock and fist himself to completion, but Harry hadn’t allowed him to, and he didn’t even want to try to find out what Harry might do if he dared to disobey. So, instead, he continued to torment his nipples and fucked himself slowly with the toy, relishing in its radiating warmth and its slow growth on every inward thrust, spreading him further open.

His prostate demanded more stimulation, and after resisting for the longest time, Draco couldn’t deny himself any longer. He increased the speed of his thrusts and fucked himself good and proper. After a few strokes, the toy turned cold once again and shivering, Draco paused.

Harry smirked.

“I see, you haven’t learnt your lesson yet,” he taunted.

Draco wanted to growl at him but resisted the urge.

Instead, he pressed his lips tightly together, forming a thin line.

“I told you you’re not allowed to come, Malfoy. Did you think you’d get away with a sneaky prostate orgasm? Learn to play by the rules, then we can talk orgasms. Nice and slow is what I want to see, stop ruining the show.”

Draco briefly closed his eyes and inhaling deeply, it finally dawned on him that Harry had charmed both the toy and the lube. Each time he tried to properly fuck himself with the toy it turned to ice, making his arse muscles clench uncomfortably to expel the unwelcome intrusion, but as long as he kept the pace nice and slow, the dildo produced delightful heat, that kept him on the brink of insanity without even trying all that hard.

Swallowing a sigh, Draco resigned himself to hours and hours of torture, and forcing himself to keep the pace slow and steady, he fucked himself with the cursed dildo. He couldn’t focus on twisting his nipples and pulling on them at the same time, and Harry didn’t reprimand him for it.

He fucked himself slowly and steadily, and the dildo’s radiating heat made him nearly delirious with desire. His arse thrummed from his earlier spanking, and his tight channel moulded itself fantastically around the toy, welcoming its intrusion over and over again. His prostate felt thick and hard, but the slow place wasn’t enough to push him over the edge.

Draco’s hand slipped from his chest to his stomach, and he swallowed. His eyelids fluttered and falling closed, he wished he could wrap his fist around his cock and stroke it slowly, matching the rhythm of the toy. His fingers curled into a loose fist, and vaguely aware of the sound of a scraping chair, Draco heard familiar footsteps.

A moment later, Harry stood in front of him, and less than a minute later, Harry’s hand closed around his neglected cock, gripping it firmly.

His eyes flew open and staring right at Harry’s face, he licked his lips.

“Please, Sir, please.”

Harry smiled.

He remained silent but began to slowly stroke his cock.

Draco moaned.

“_Ngh_, please, Sir, please.”

“Please what, my little prince?”

Harry’s voice was soft and low, and it sent a shiver down Draco’s spine.

He blinked, swallowed, and felt his eyes fill with tears.

“Please, I want to come so bad.”

Harry’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Not just yet, Malfoy, I think you can last a little longer.”

Harry teasingly toyed with his cock, playing with it more than actually stroking it properly. He circled his thumb around the head, squeezed the hot hard flesh, and paid a ridiculous amount of attention to his balls.

Draco gasped.

He wanted to thrust forward into Harry’s hand, but he couldn’t do so without letting go of the toy, and groaning in frustration, he kept his eyes locked on Harry’s and drowned out every single distraction.

His eyes continued to fill with tears, but Draco stubbornly blinked them away. He sought out Harry’s other hand and squeezing it tightly, he used it to ground himself, and relished in the calming touch of Harry’s fingers briefly pressing against the pulse point on the inside of his wrist, then circling around it.

“You’re gorgeous like that, my little prince. All desperate for me, desperate to come for me, desperate for my permission to let you come for me.”

Draco keened.

Harry’s hand left his cock, squeezed his hip, then rubbed over his arse and smacked him firmly.

His channel tightened around the toy in his arse, and feeling Harry’s hand on top of his own, he slowed his thrusts. Harry gently removed his hand and took over fucking him with the toy. He moved it at the perfect pace, not too fast for the dildo or the lube to turn to ice, and not slow to cancel out the exciting warmth.

Letting go of Harry’s hand, Draco let his arms drop to his sides. Now free, Harry’s other hand played with his cock, squeezed his balls, travelled up his torso and tormented his nipples, then pulled the clamps off, one by one, and bit the sensitive nubs. Draco moaned without restraint, and when Harry’s mouth covered his own, he let himself be kissed until his lungs burnt in protest, demanding air, needing oxygen.

Harry pulled away, caressed his cheeks, and blinking softly, Draco let the tears fall, only to feel Harry wipe them away with his thumb. He let out a choked sort of sob, swallowed hard, and gripping his chin tightly, Harry smiled at him.

“Are you going to be a good boy from now on, Malfoy?”

Draco nodded.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Yes, Sir, I’ll be a very good boy.”

“No more breaking the law?”

Draco shook his head.

“No, Sir, I promise.”

“Hm, I’ll take a chance on you and believe you. You’ve been very obedient today indeed. Bent over.”

Draco let Harry push him into the desired position, he ended up on his hands and knees. Harry moved to stand behind him, and for the second time that day, Draco heard Harry undo his belt buckle, pop the button of his trousers and pull the zipper down. He did all that while he continued to fuck him slowly with the cursed dildo, then Draco felt a flood of lube between his arse cheeks. It was warm and delightful, and he felt Harry’s fingers press against the rim of his hole, working plenty of lube inside of him. He did so without ever removing the toy and took an extraordinary amount of time to prepare him. Draco lost himself in the tenderness of the moment and closing his eyes, he floated around his own mind, drifting deeper and deeper into a place he could only reach when Harry and he played like this.

After a while of teasing, Harry pulled the dildo about halfway out, then, much to Draco’s surprise, pressed the tip of his cock against his already stretched hole. Draco’s eyes flew open, and breathing deeply to keep himself as relaxed as possible, he felt Harry slowly penetrate him right alongside the toy. His hole burned, and every inch of his arse protested the double penetration, while at the same time welcoming the intense heat of the lube and the cursed toy.

Harry took his time. He very slowly worked an inch of his cock into Draco, then paused, then worked a bit more of his cock into his arse. Draco’s legs began to tremble, and his arms shook. He continued to breathe deeply, and keeping himself as relaxed as possible, he tried his hardest not to focus on the burn of the initial penetration but on the incredible fullness that followed after. Harry had managed to stretch him so entirely that he felt thoroughly owned.

He succumbed to the sensations, and by the time Harry had eased half of his cock into him, Draco found himself begging for more. Harry obliged and pushed all of his thick hard cock into him while pushing the toy inside too. He gave Draco an adequate amount of time to relax and adjust, then slowly pulled almost all the way out, only to push right back inside.

Draco groaned.

He gasped and panted.

He moaned.

He mumbled entirely incomprehensible gibberish.

His cock throbbed, his arse was on fire, and when Harry smacked his red arse, he keened, whimpered and begged for more.

Harry pulled back, smacked his arse, pushed back inside, smacked his arse, and continued to torment him at the slowest pace possible. Draco’s arse thrummed to life once more, and the dull pain turned into a perfect sting, and he relished in his second spanking of the day while Harry unhurriedly fucked him with his cock and a dildo at the same time.

His prostate felt like it was about to explode and his cock was so hard, Draco didn’t think he could stand much more of this overload of sensations.

Harry’s hand squeezed his hip, and he continued to penetrate him with both the dildo and his cock and setting a steady pace, Draco groaned on every inward thrust and whimpered whenever Harry pulled back.

He pleaded for more, and yelped when Harry bit his shoulder, then begged for his release and thanked Harry when he smacked his arse so hard that he briefly saw stars.

After what felt like the most prolonged slow torture session, Harry removed the dildo and pounded into him like there was no tomorrow.

Draco’s arms finally gave in and falling forward into the strangest yoga pose of all time, one that was neither one nor the other, he let himself be fucked.

A flood of tears streamed down his face and sobbing into the hard and unforgiving metal bed beneath him, he deliriously begged for his orgasm and screamed in delight when Harry’s hand wrapped itself around his cock, and he stroked him.

Harry continued to fuck him hard, gripping his hip hard enough to leave a massive bruise behind, and his prostate succumbed to the overload of sensations, and he came, feeling his arse muscles clench around Harry’s cock. His own cock remained hard, for Harry had squeezed the base hard enough to prevent him from spurting his load all over the metal bed, but once the effects of his prostate orgasm subsided, Harry continued to stroke his cock.

“Mine, mine, mine, all mine, mine to fuck, mine to hurt, mine to love, mine, mine, mine, all mine.”

Harry’s possessive tone of voice and several hard smacks to his arse, finally pushed Draco over the edge and he floated deep into subspace, mostly oblivious to anything going on around him.

He groaned, felt Harry pound into him, and heard Harry moan loudly. He came a second time that night and somehow, as he shot rope after rope of white-hot come into his arse, Harry managed to stroke him to completion as well, and Draco came on a loud sob, actually passing out from the force of his orgasm and the intensity of Harry’s and his play.

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	22. In The Afterglow (I'm Still On Fire For You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after such an intense scene, aftercare is absolutely essential and as such, I didn't want to leave it too long until the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

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* * *

**_Afterglow:_** the good feelings that remain/linger after a pleasurable experience

* * *

* * *

Having fully expected Draco to pass out at the end of their scene, Harry remained entirely unfazed over the fact that his little prince was virtually comatose.

Instead, he pulled his trousers up and fastened them provisionally to ensure he didn’t end up stumbling over his own feet, then drew his wand from his Auror-issued chest holster and pointed its tip directly at Draco’s bare chest.

Harry took a deep breath, centred himself, focused, and then harnessed his magic to be able to control the strength of the spell, he was about to cast. He didn’t really need his wand to influence his magical core, but since today’s scene hadn’t left him entirely unaffected and he felt slightly exhausted, he decided that using his wand might be safer.

Where subspace was involved, one needed to be especially cautious when using the Riving Spell to reverse the effects of a sudden blackout. While the charm couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead, it was instrumental in counteracting the impact of a Stunner or a simple temporary loss of consciousness.

At this moment in time, Draco was experiencing a natural high, and was entirely disconnected from time, space, and quite possibly also his body. His ability to communicate was severely impacted, and Harry didn’t expect Draco to be able to articulate himself properly any time soon. He didn’t need him to, he knew precisely what Draco needed right now. He needed rest, sleep, and plenty of tender loving care.

Since just about every aspect of today’s scene had been intense, and massive amounts of epinephrine, endorphins, and enkephalins were presently cursing through Draco’s veins, the very last thing Harry wanted to do was to mess with was Draco’s post-scene euphoria.

Draco’s body needed to fully experience the rush to allow him to come down gradually. Any substantial use of magic was entirely ill-advised, and Harry had no desire to experiment with that sort of madness. Draco’s safety was paramount and not something Harry was interested in meddling with.

“Rennervate!”

Not bothered to cast non-verbally, Harry murmured the incantation into the small space between him and Draco.

A flash of brilliantly coloured red light instantly shot forth from the tip of his wand and hit Draco, who responded by drawing in a shallow breath. His eyelids fluttered, and he briefly opened his eyes but didn’t focus his gaze on anything in particular.

In Draco’s current state, Harry didn’t think he was even able to concentrate for long enough to be able to see clearly and make sense of what was going on around him.

Harry sheathed his wand and smiled.

Whatever was going on in Draco’s brain right was downright incredible, and Harry was just a little envious, though not nearly enough to give up dominance and experience it for himself. Seeing Draco like this, happy and floating, and knowing he’d enjoyed himself enough to let go of all of his inhibitions, was enough for Harry.

Sitting down on top of the uncomfortable metal cot, Harry cradled Draco’s head in his lap and tenderly ran his fingers through Draco’s damp blond hair.

“You’re so gorgeous, my sweet little prince, and you were absolutely perfect for me today. I love you very much.”

Draco responded with a soft hum and pushed into his gentle caress.

“You like that, don’t you, my love?”

Draco purred lightly, and Harry smiled.

A rush of love erupted from the centre of his chest, and he shuddered at the intensity of the emotion.

His heart thumped wildly, expanded, and a breath later, his entire chest cavity felt entirely too small to house all the love he felt for Draco. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Harry was nearly dizzy with it. Stars danced in front of his eyes, and he had to blink several times to focus properly. A few deep breaths helped to slow his rapid pulse, and he focused on lovingly stroking Draco’s cheek.

He carefully procured a small potion phial from the chest pocket of the shirt he wore under his uniform jacket, and uncorking it, Harry gently parted Draco’s lips with his thumb. He coaxed him into opening his mouth just wide enough so that he could sprinkle several drops of an undiluted hydrating potion directly onto Draco’s tongue.

In response, Draco smacked his lips noisily, and Harry chuckled softly.

He’d very much anticipated that reaction.

The deep blue elixir, which Charlie had brewed, was designed to provide Draco’s body with a large dose of electrolytes to help him balance the amount of water in his body. The concoction also contained twenty-five per cent of dextrose and was therefore incredibly sweet, which was just the right thing for Draco’s sweet tooth.

Harry corked the phial once more and slipped it back into his shirt’s chest pocket. He then got up and sliding one arm underneath Draco’s neck and the other underneath his knees, he lifted Draco off the metal bed and straight into his arms.

He carried his precious little prince out of the cell, and through the very realistic replica of his office, then strode down the corridor and descended one flight of stairs down to the third floor of his and Draco’s home. Like he’d done so many times before, Harry carried Draco straight into their bedroom and gently placed him on top of their bed.

Before their scene, he’d covered the bed with a soft white cotton sheet, and once Harry was sure that Draco was comfortable, he divested himself of his Auror robes and his uniform jacket, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

He reached for the round dark-green plastic washbowl, which he’d left on his nightstand and ended the Stasis Charm, he’d cast on it after he’d filled it with hot water. Harry carefully wrung out the soft golden sponge, he’d dropped into the water several hours ago. A simple non-verbal, wandless spell ensured that the basin floated in the air beside him, and making sure not to accidentally knock it over and spill the water all over the bed or the floor, Harry cleaned the dried sweat, lube, come and drool off Draco’s body.

Every now and then, Draco hummed murmured something entirely incomprehensible, and each time he did, Harry stopped to caress his cheek, kiss his forehead or shower him with sweet words of praise. In response to his physical and verbal affection, the corners of Draco’s mouth curled upward, and he smiled goofily. It was a rather infectious smile and sooner rather than later, Harry found himself mirroring it and humming some random pop tune, he’d heard on the radio the other day, he finished cleaning Draco up.

Once he was done, he carried the bowl and the sponge into the en-suite bathroom, and leaving it beside the marble washbasin, he returned to the bedroom, stretched and yawned. He was exhausted, but there were several things he had to take care of first before he could rest.

Since Draco wasn’t particularly cooperative in his current state, it took a bit of effort to remove the cotton sheet from underneath him, but after a few tugs and pulls, Harry managed just fine. He banished it to the laundry basket, and since Draco had started to shiver, Harry pulled the duvet up and tucked it around Draco. He also wrapped him into a cocoon of warmth with a long-lasting but mild warming charm, then bend down to kiss Draco’s temple softly.

“Sleep, my love.”

Draco hummed, mumbled some sort of gibberish, and with a smile, Harry drew his wand, swished it, and conjured his Patronus. A swirl of silvery mist erupted from the tip of his wand, and a moment later, an impressive corporal stag appeared beside the bed and pawed the ground with his right forehoof, then tilted his head to the side in a silent question.

“If he stirs, come find me immediately.”

The stag bowed his head in acknowledgement, and nodding, Harry scooped up his scarlet robes, and his uniform jacket then left the room and returned upstairs to the fourth floor.

It took him well over an hour of meticulously hard work to restore the two guest rooms, he’d turned into a copy of his office and a holding cell.

Somehow, dismantling all the charms and reversing every single transfiguration seemed more tedious than casting the actual spells had been and by the end of it, Harry’s shirt was thoroughly perspired. He wiped the sweat of his brow, and stretching his aching muscles, Harry groaned and massaged the back of his neck. He waved his wand to cast a half-hearted general cleaning spell to take care of any dirt or dust.

As the charm worked its magic, Harry returned to the third floor, and slipping back inside his and Draco’s bedroom, he headed straight for the bathroom, closed the door behind him, and absent-mindedly waved his hand to throw a silencing charm at the door.

He was completely naked and inside the shower in less than five minutes, and simply standing under the powerful jets of hot water, Harry closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He was too tired for a detailed reflection over the various aspects of his and Draco’s roleplay scene, but even in his fatigued state he knew that it had been a great success.

Unwilling to hurry through his shower, Harry continued to let the hot water cascade down over him and inhaled the steam-rich air inside the spacious shower room. As the tension of the day gradually seeped out of him, and he felt his muscles relax, Harry smiled to himself.

He reached for a bottle of his favourite shampoo and took his sweet time washing his hair, then used a large amount of exfoliating body wash, Draco’s preferred foamy concoction, to really scrub every inch of his body. Once he felt clean and had managed to restore some of his energy levels, Harry switched the water off, and pushing the glass door to the shower room open, he stepped out onto the large slip-resistant mat right in front of the cubicle.

He summoned a towel, dried himself and his hair but didn’t bother to comb through it. It made no difference anyway; his hair had a mind of its own, and he’d come to terms with that a long time ago. He did stop in front of the fogged-up bathroom mirror though, and after clearing it and his glasses up, Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair and briefly contemplated whether he could be bothered to shave or not.

After a few minutes of dithering about, Harry decided that at this point in time, he could not give a hoot about whether he was clean-shaven or not. His five o’clock shadow gave him a ruggedly handsome appearance, and strangely enough, he rather liked it.

He’d never purposefully grown a beard before, but right this moment he was seriously considering it, and smirking at his own reflection, Harry instantly found himself thinking about several different ways of how he could use his beard during play.

The inside of Draco’s thighs was a rather sensitive area, and suddenly, Harry couldn’t wait to find out how his little prince might respond to having that particular stretch of his deliciously milky-white skin roughly teased with the help of prickly facial hair, several well-placed bites, and streak after streak of fingernail scratches.

Humming to himself, Harry rubbed his thumb and forefinger along his jawline and caressed his growing stubble.

Oh yes, he was definitely going to grow a beard. It was about time he switched things up a little and added a different sort of spice to his and Draco’s play, and life in general.

His rumbling stomach temporarily distracted him from making any further plans, and cancelling the silencing charm on the door, Harry left his and Draco’s en-suite bathroom and quietly padded over to the walk-in wardrobe, suppressing the urge to chuckle underneath his breath.

Draco liked to refer to it as a dressing room, but because it didn’t have an actual door, just a wide arch one walked through, Harry refused to cave and continued to refer to it as a walk-in wardrobe. He mostly did it because he knew it riled Draco up and as a result of his feigned stubbornness, they bickered about it every other week. It gave Draco a reason to be a sassy and Harry the opportunity to think of a range of funishments. Playfully disciplining Draco had become one of his favourite pastimes and he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed himself in those moments. Draco loved his deviousness, and Harry had become a sucker for Draco pushing his boundaries. He was never bratty about it, just the right amount of sassy.

Slipping into a pair of plain black boxer briefs, Harry adjusted the waistband until it sat perfectly, then stepped into a pair of charcoal tracksuit bottoms and pulled a loose black long-sleeved shirt over his head.

He didn’t bother with socks, and heading back into the bedroom, he walked up to the bed, sat down beside Draco, and ran his fingers gently through Draco’s hair. He caressed his cheek, then leant down to press a lingering kiss to Draco’s temple.

“Sweet one, I love you.”

Draco murmured something or other, rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows.

Harry toyed with his hair, caressed the back of his neck, and dropped a kiss onto his exposed shoulder blade, then covered Draco up again to ensure he remained warm.

“My precious little prince.”

Despite getting hungrier by the minute, Harry stayed for a few more minutes. He thoroughly enjoyed watching Draco sleep, even if he couldn’t see his face.

When asleep, Draco looked incredibly young and vulnerable and sometimes, especially post-play, he appeared at least ten years younger, and absolutely carefree.

Harry couldn’t get enough of Draco when he was like this, without all of his masks, and without his worries and fears. He cherished every single tender moment and often felt himself falling in love with Draco all over again.

Harry’s stomach gave another disgruntled rumble, and frowning, he swallowed a sigh and grudgingly got to his feet.

He stretched, and unable to resist kissing the back of Draco’s head, he braced his hands on the firm mattress and did just that.

Draco didn’t stir, he was, quite frankly, dead to the world, and shaking his head, Harry turned away and left their bedroom, closing the door behind him. He strolled down the corridor and slowly made his way downstairs and into the kitchen where he put the kettle on to make himself a cup of tea, and then went about preparing a sandwich to curb his ravenous hunger.

Instead of sitting down, he remained standing, and as he leant back against the worktop behind him and munched on his cheese, ham, and cucumber sandwich, Harry’s thoughts slowly drifted.

They first settled on the incredibly gorgeous man currently fast asleep upstairs in their bed, then moved on to their earlier play.

He’d meticulously planned the whole scene, and even though he knew that he could have kept things simpler, he had no regrets about the extravagant setup and the lengths, he’d gone to, to ensure that everything was perfect. He’d thoroughly enjoyed ‘abducting’ Draco from the Ministry’s Atrium and bringing him back to Grimmauld Place and although being able to do that had turned him on massively, what had really aroused him this time around had been Draco’s sass and the way he’d attempted to bribe him without batting an eyelid.

He’d enjoyed the terrified look on Draco’s face as his eyes had settled on the riding crop, which he’d transfigured into a cane. He would have never used the implement on Draco, but it had raised the stakes and had added just the right amount of spice and zest to the scene.

Harry briefly controlled his thoughts and focusing on the here, and now, he let a wave of intense arousal wash over him. It zapped down his spine and pooled low in his groin but thankfully didn’t send a large stream of blood rushing into his cock, causing it to swell and strain against his loose clothing.

Still, he inhaled deeply, held his breath for several seconds, then exhaled, and reaching for his cup of tea, Harry took several small sips and relished in the warmth of the liquid as it flowed down his oesophagus, warming him from the inside.

His thoughts drifted to the spanking session, he’d incorporated into the scene, and he grinned into his tea.

Draco always enjoyed a good spanking, but this time, the look on his face had been one of pure blissed-out pleasure. He’d loved every strike with the crop and every smack Harry had delivered with his hand and just watching Draco enjoy himself so immensely had nearly been enough to result in Harry exploding inside the confines of his uniform.

Thankfully, he possessed a little bit more self-restraint than that, although the decision to fuck Draco’s mouth had been partially spurred on by the fact that he was desperate for release.

Harry pressed pause on his memories, finished his sandwich and grabbing a large green apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen table, he sank his teeth into it and ripped a large chunk of crisp juicy flesh out of the tart and slightly sour fruit. He chewed it carefully and smirked at it. He wasn’t the biggest fan of apples, they were Draco’s favourite, but occasionally he couldn’t resist the temptation and indulged a bit.

Forcing Draco to edge himself with a cursed dildo and some charmed lube had been another one of those temptations; he kind he didn’t know how to resist or simply didn’t want to even try. Edging Draco had been the result of his own wicked deviousness, and he’d enjoyed absolutely every second of it. He loved it when Draco was thoroughly needy, desperate to come, and willing to do just about anything to get permission to climax.

Harry took another bite out of the green apple and placing his empty teacup and the plate on which he’d prepared his sandwich in the kitchen sink, he shuddered when a wisp of familiar magic suddenly whipped around him. He turned around and found himself face to face with his Patronus.

“He’s awake,” his own voice told him.

Nodding, Harry abandoned his apple and left the kitchen to head upstairs to check on Draco. He took the stairs two at a time and arrived at the door to his and Draco’s bedroom feeling just a little out of breath. A few deep breaths regulated his pounding heart, and pushing the door open, he walked inside. Draco was indeed awake. He’d curled into a foetal position and looked at him from under lowered lashes.

Harry smiled.

“Hello there, sleepyhead.”

He kept his voice low and soft, and kicking the door shut behind him, he drew the curtains with a flick of his hand and a non-verbal spell. With a second wave of his hand, he turned the lamps on his and Draco’s nightstand on but made sure to dim them, then unceremoniously stepped out of his loose trousers and pulled his shirt above his head. He rounded the bed, and slipping underneath the covers, Harry spooned around Draco and enveloped him in a loving hug.

Draco hummed in approval, turned in his embrace and buried his face against Harry’s bare chest.

Harry kissed the top of Draco’s head, ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, and down along the long curve of his spine.

“Stay with me.”

Draco’s whispered plea sent a shudder through Harry, and he threw one leg over Draco’s thighs and wrapped both his arms around him.

“Absolutely, all night if that’s what you want.”

“I want that.”

“Good. Then that’s what we’ll do. Tell me, are you hungry?”

Draco shook his head.

“No.”

“Alright, let’s get a bit more rest, then we can think about food.”

Since he’d given Draco the potion, Harry wasn’t in any rush to make Draco eat something, but if push came to shove, he could always summon the packet of biscuits or the bar of chocolate he kept in his nightstand for such occasions.

“I want to lie in your arms. You’re warm and safe.”

Harry chuckled softly.

He kissed the top of Draco’s head again, and this time, he lingered a bit.

“I’m glad I’ve got my uses, my love.”

“Hm, yes, you do. You’re my pillow, my protector and, and, and…”

“Your life-sized hot water bottle?” Harry offered when Draco didn’t finish his sentence.

“Hm, yes, that.”

Chuckling, Harry combed his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“Sleep, silly. You’re not making any sense.”

Draco huffed out a breath of air, and the warmth of it spread all over Harry’s chest.

He shuddered a little.

“I am, though,” Draco insisted.

He was clearly hellbent on contradicting him.

Harry chuckled.

He was quite sure that Draco had no idea what he was talking about or that he was even talking.

“Hm, yes, you make perfect sense, my love.”

“Don’t mock me.”

Draco moved and lifting his head, he looked up and pouted.

Harry kissed him on the lips.

“I’m not mocking you, my little prince, I’d never dare.”

“Good, because I’m a menacing prosecutor and you really don’t want to get on my bad side.”

Harry smiled.

“Nah, I really don’t. Sleep?”

Draco nodded.

He snuggled close again and caressing Draco’s cheek, the side of his neck, and his shoulder, Harry pressed a gentle kiss to Draco’s forehead.

“I love you.”

Draco hummed softly.

“I love you too.”

Harry grinned and hugging Draco that little bit tighter, he yawned, pulled the duvet a little tighter around Draco and himself and wandlessly dimmed the lights, dipping his and Draco’s bedroom into darkness.

He could feel his own tiredness seeping through his pores, trying to take over, but he fought it until he was sure that Draco had fallen asleep again. Only then he finally closed his eyes and gave in to exhaustion. Sleep claimed him within seconds, and he drifted off into the land of dreams.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I accept that some people might not want aftercare, and they are perfectly entitled to this preference, I consider it to be a hugely important part of post-play.
> 
> It's something that should always be discussed when negotiating a scene and I thought I'd take the opportunity to offer up a bit of additional reading material.
> 
> As usual, check it out if you want, or ignore it, I'm just offering.
> 
> 1) ["BDSM Beginners: All About Aftercare"](https://www.lelo.com/blog/bdsm-beginners-aftercare/)  
2) ["Why Aftercare Is The BDSM Practice That Everyone Should Be Doing"](https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/what-is-bdsm-sex-aftercare) _[This article truly resonates with me. Aftercare is such a great way for two people to connect and I really don't think it's something that should be exclusive to BDSM play. Taking time to be affectionate with your partner, and listening to them, and practising healthy communication, is always going to bring two people closer together.]_  
3) ["BDSM Aftercare 101 - Ways Ts Care For Your Sub After Play"](https://www.lovense.com/bdsm-blog/aftercare) _[I especially liked the fact that this article talks about Domdrop as well. Aftercare is usually a term that's thrown around a lot, and sub drop is thankfully starting to get a lot more attention too, but nobody ever talks about Domdrop and it actually irks me quite a bit. I am, however, going to resist getting into this now, as it's a different conversation for a different chapter.]_


	23. This Isn't Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what goes up must come down again, for that's the law of physics.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Placing his fork on his empty plate, Draco moved the midnight-blue ceramic dish out of the way and tilting his head slightly to the side, he looked at Harry, who seemed to be a million miles away. He was immersed in his own thoughts; thoughts Draco was not privy of and hadn’t been for several days now.

“You barely ate anything, aren’t you hungry?”

Draco asked a question, hoping it might entice Harry to return to the here and now and grace him with his presence, both mentally and physically.

He was unsuccessful.

Frowning deeply and moving his chair back, Draco got to his feet and cautiously approached Harry. He reached out and gently held the back of his hand to Harry’s forehead to feel for a temperature but couldn’t detect any sign of that. Harry’s skin didn’t feel clammy or hot to the touch.

Suppressing a sigh, Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s messy dark hair and bracing himself on the kitchen table, he pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s temple. Harry hadn’t shaved in a few days and was sporting a rather sexy gruff. What had been a prominent five o’clock shadow, when they’d indulged in a bit of heavy roleplay this past weekend, was gradually turning into something that made Draco rather week at the knees. The idea of Harry with a well-coiffed and trimmed corporate beard absolutely appealed to him, and he prayed that Harry wasn’t just being lazy but was actually attempting to grow some serious facial hair.

Draco gently caressed Harry’s rugged-looking cheek. He quite liked the feel of Harry’s stubble. Compared to his own smooth hairless skin, it was a stark contrast. While Draco wanted to continue daydreaming about Harry’s growing beard, his worries didn’t let him, and he resolutely pushed his little fantasy to the furthest corner of his mind and focused back on the present. Since Harry had ignored his previous question completely, Draco decided to try again, and keeping his voice low and soft, he broke the silence that had settled around them.

“Harry, you’ve got to eat something.”

Much to Draco’s surprise, Harry turned his head and looked at him, but his expression was blank. It almost seemed like Harry had heard him speak but that his brain hasn’t comprehended the actual words.

“Huh?”

Draco took a deep breath and swallowed past the mild annoyance that threatened to spread through him and seep into his voice. He schooled his expression into something more neutral; something that didn’t resemble his signature Malfoyesque death glare.

“Did you listen to anything I just said?”

Harry blinked and nodded.

“Sure,” he replied.

It was an utterly absentminded response, and for about half a second, Draco felt the intense desire to slap Harry across the face; however, he controlled the urge beautifully and taking another deep breath, Draco forced his anger to slowly dissipate. While raising his voice and deliberately picking a fight with Harry was what a large part of him absolutely wanted to do, Draco felt that he too mature to give in to such a childish impulse. He was also acutely aware of the fact that it wouldn’t get him nowhere and most likely just cause an even bigger problem, and so he stoically kept his mask in place and controlled all of his emotions.

Meanwhile, Harry slowly rose to his feet, stretched, and rubbing his neck, he grimaced.

“Hm, dinner was great, love, thank you. You know what, I’m feeling a bit tired, today was a bit of a stressful day. I think I’ll just jump into the shower and crawl into bed. I need an early night.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and remained silent.

When he’d arrived home around four in the afternoon, he’d found Harry sitting on the sofa in their living room, reading a book. Well, not precisely, Harry had been holding a book, but he certainly hadn’t been reading it. Although he hadn’t actually asked Harry, Draco was quite sure that he hadn’t left the house at all today.

Aware that he hadn’t acknowledged Harry’s deliberate move to avoid any sort of confrontation, civil or otherwise, Draco hastily replied.

“Sure,” he mumbled, keeping his answer very short.

He didn’t know what else to say.

Things had been weird for a few days now, but they’d finally stopped making sense to him yesterday. It had been then that he’d fully realised that no matter what he said or did, he had no way of getting through to Harry, who seemed to be stuck in the strangest kind of funk; one that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever.

Draco couldn’t explain it, but he was worried, almost distraught already even. He felt entirely ill-equipped to handle the situation, and his heart ached horribly over the fact that he didn’t know how to help Harry. At this stage, he’d tried just about anything ranging from offering Harry cuddles to surprising him with treacle tart. Nothing seemed to make any difference.

“Thank you, my love, I knew you’d understand.”

Harry words pulled Draco out of his thoughts, and he looked straight at Harry, surprised to find him smiling. It only took a few seconds for reality to sink in, and Draco furrowed his brows even further, although realistically he wasn’t sure whether that was even possible. It felt like half of his forehead had already disappeared past his hairline.

There was absolutely nothing real about Harry’s smile.

It was completely feigned. It didn’t reach his eyes, which appeared dull and had lost some of their usual brilliant vibrancy, and the corners of his mouth barely curled upwards at all.

When Harry, somewhat unexpectedly, leant in to kiss his cheek, Draco barely managed to resist the urge to grab his shoulders, shake him hard, and ask him what the hell was going on. But he controlled himself beautifully and decided that picking a fight with Harry would get him nowhere.

So, instead, he remained passive, and once Harry had left the kitchen, Draco glanced at Harry’s plate and let out that sigh, he’d been holding back. His heart gave a painful lurch, and a sharp piercing pain briefly stopped him from inhaling an adequate amount of air.

Harry had barely touched his portion of the potato and cauliflower gratin, which was highly unusual because he loved that particular dish and often asked Draco to make it for him. It a was simple enough recipe to follow and over the last year or so, Draco had even rushed back home to Grimmauld Place once or twice to prepare it, pack it up and take it back to the Ministry with him to surprise Harry with a late lunch or early dinner.

Shaking his head, Draco sighed again.

Over the last few days, Harry had been extremely lethargic, listless, preoccupied, and deeply melancholic. He seemed thoroughly depressed, and Draco had no explanation for it. It just didn’t make any sense. The Harry he knew had everything under control, communicated freely about his feelings, and wasn’t afraid to show his vulnerable side, admit defeat, or confess that he didn’t know something. This Harry, well, Draco felt like he’d never met this version of Harry before. He was quiet, distracted, lost in his own world, and not at all domineering. It was like Harry’s desire to take charge and control a situation had all but evaporated into thin air.

On Monday morning, Harry had slept past his alarm, which never happened before. He’d also complained about muscle aches and a dull headache, and instead of making coffee and breakfast for them both, Draco had informed his legal assistant that he’d be in late and then proceeded to turn the kitchen into a potions’ lab. He brewed a fresh batch of Pepper-Up in the hope that it might stop Harry from getting sick.

It had done next to nothing, and frustrated, Harry had left for work.

That evening he’d come home late, and had just generally been a moody, disagreeable and very unsociable arse.

It had taken Draco every ounce of self-restraint not to give in and fight with Harry, and after exercising complete self-control and deciding not to indulge Harry, he’d made up some haphazard excuse about needing to check a lawbook or three. He’d then, rather pathetically so, hidden away in his study until after Harry had gone to bed.

Thinking back to that evening now, Draco realised that Monday night had been the very first night he’d gone to where he’d gone to bed after Harry. After he’d moved into Grimmauld Place, they’d quickly established this unwritten rule of him turning in for the night before Harry did. Although, since Harry knew that he didn’t like sleeping alone, he usually joined him in bed pretty soon after. At most, an hour would pass, but then Harry always came upstairs, crawled into bed and enveloped him in a fiercely possessive hug.

It was their thing, a silly little bedtime ritual that meant the world to Draco, and he hated the fact that whatever was going on inside Harry’s head had disrupted that familiar pattern. It was a stupid way of looking at it, Draco knew that much, but it was how he felt and where Harry was concerned, he could do next to nothing about his emotions.

On Tuesday morning, after tossing and turning for most of the night, unable to sleep peacefully and refusing to down a phial of Dreamless Sleep, Harry had nearly floo’ed to the Ministry in his pyjamas. After losing a pointless battle with the fancy clasp of his Auror robes, he’d smashed his favourite mug in anger, then stormed out the front door, muttering incomprehensibly under his breath.

Confused and concerned, Draco had stayed back for a second morning to mend the ceramic mug, and after it refused to appropriately respond to magic, he’d spent two hours manually putting it back together and then painting over the cracks.

On Wednesday, Draco had tried to talk to Harry, but Harry had rebuffed him, and repeatedly reassured him that everything was fine and that he didn’t need to worry, then promptly changed the topic and suggested that they watch a film together to take their mind off things.

Not really interested in whatever was happening on the screen, Draco had made every attempt to distract Harry, and eventually, he’d succeeded.

Some twenty minutes into the film, Harry had finally paused the DVD, and they’d spent the next hour kissing on the sofa. Things had started innocently enough, but they’d quickly heated up considerably.

Draco had been thoroughly excited at the prospect of having sex with Harry, but when he’d raised his arms above his head, called Harry ‘_Sir_’ and told him that he was his and that Harry could do with him as he pleased, Harry had clammed up, and instead of continuing to take Draco’s clothes off, he’d insisted that they finish the film, they’d chosen.

It had completely confused Draco, and unable to concentrate, he’d escaped upstairs to run himself a bath.

It was now Thursday, and Draco was at his wit’s end. He was also beyond worried.

He’d never seen Harry act like this and didn’t know what to do to help him.

Nothing seemed to work.

It was thoroughly frustrating.

Harry wasn’t talking to him, appeared to be getting more and more depressed, and Draco could make neither heads nor tails out of it.

He picked up his empty plate, as well as Harry’s barely touched one, and carrying them over to the sink, Draco put them down on the worktop.

He paused, stood motionless, and racking his brains and running his fingers repeatedly through his already dishevelled hair, he fervently tried to come up with something he could do to fix the situation.

Something was very wrong, but he couldn’t work out what it was or how to make it go away.

It cost him every ounce of energy not to let his own anxieties get the better of him and imagine the worst.

Clenching his fist together, Draco stared into the empty sink and worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He closed his eyes, swallowed past the desire to sink to the ground and burst into tears, but couldn’t help wondering whether Harry’s and his relationship was falling apart.

“No!”

Draco thumped the wooden countertop, winced at the searing pain that shot up his arm, and banished that toxic thought from his mind.

Instead, he drew his wand, mumbled a few spells in rapid succession, and left it up to magic to clear away the remnants of Harry’s and his dinner. He didn’t have the head for doing the dishes or anything else.

Without a backward glance, he left the kitchen and made his way into the living room. There, he stopped in the centre and apprehensively stared at the fireplace.

Despite having a handle on his phobia, he hated floo travel and firecalls with a passion.

Somehow, it was alright when Harry was on the other end, but with anyone else, even with his own mother, the pit of his stomach was full to the brim with uneasiness, and he felt as though he was on the verge of a massive panic attack. Since he hated that feeling with a passion, he usually tried his best to avoid it at all costs, and on the odd occasion that things got tough, he made every effort to talk to Harry about it and together, they sorted things out.

Swallowing hard, Draco forced his fears down, and slowly approaching the fireplace, he kneeled down in front of it, grabbed a decent amount of floo powder and tossed it into the crackling fire. The flames crackled and hissed before the crisp “snip-snap-whoosh” of the roaring blaze finally turned green.

“Opaleye Cottage!”

Closing his eyes, Draco took a deep breath, and clenching his fists so tightly that his own fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms, he dove headfirst into the bright green flames.

“Draco?”

Charlie’s soothing voice instantly calmed Draco’s frayed nerves a little but not enough to settle his churning stomach.

“Is it safe?”

Charlie’s booming laughter echoed in Draco’s ear.

“If by safe, you mean whether me and my boy are dressed, yes, we are decent. Well I am, but from where you are you can’t see Liam anyway. You can open your eyes.”

Draco blinked and slowly opened his eyes to find that Charlie had crouched in front of his fireplace, effectively obscuring his view of the room.

Letting his eyes settle on Charlie’s friendly face, Draco felt himself relax a little more.

He huffed out a breath of air and forced himself to stop digging his fingernails into his palms. It really hurt, and it wasn’t the kind of pleasurable pain that resulted in an intense high.

“Can you come over, please? I really need you. It’s bad.”

Charlie frowned instantly.

The laughter lines around his mouth disappeared, and his expression turned serious.

“What is it, Draco? Did something happen?”

Despite looking mildly alarmed, Charlie’s voice was steady, soft and warm. Everything about it reminded Draco about Harry and the way he always took care of him. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat, felt his throat constrict even further and his heart slowed down to a sluggish beat.

He opened his mouth to explain, but no words made it past his lips.

Instead, a pathetic little sob wrenched itself from the depths of his chest, and blinking rapidly, he tried to hold back the tears.

Charlie reacted without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Give me fifteen minutes to apparate over to headquarters and organise a Portkey, I’ll be right over.”

With a mute nod, Draco pulled back, severed the connection with a mumbled spell and a half-hearted wave of his wand, and moved away from the fire, but remained on the floor, where he curled into a bundle of misery.

He closed his eyes, hugged his knees to his chest, and let the tears fall freely. He cried quietly but bitterly and fervently hoped that Charlie would make it in less than fifteen minutes. Now that he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to seek out Charlie’s help, he didn’t think he could fix the cracks in his heart without help. He needed someone to envelop him in a tight embrace, someone who could take care of him, and knew how to make him feel better.

_Merlin, I hope Charlie knows what’s going on because if he doesn’t, I’m going to go crazy_, he thought to himself and made absolutely no effort to stop a second wave of tears from running down his cheeks and soaking into his shirt and trousers.

* * *

* * *


	24. I'll Stay Up With You (By Your Side 'Til You Repair)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a few days of hard work, I'm finally ready to share another monster chapter. I decided to write this particular chapter from Charlie's POV, which is a first for the story, but I thought I'd give it a try. I certainly had a lot of fun, and I'm fairly certain that a few of my readers will enjoy this unique glimpse into Charlie's life, his relationship with Liam, and also feelings about Harry's and Draco's relationship.
> 
> I don't actually want to blab on for too long, so I'm just going to shut up. I'll leave a couple of links for further reading (if you're interested) at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x
> 
> P.S. The lyrics at the beginning of the chapter were taken from the song "Repair", which can be found on Westlife's new album Spectrum. It inspired this chapter, kept me focused, and provided me with the precare and aftercare I needed to complete this chapter. Now I'm off to find my own Domme to let her take care of me properly.

* * *

* * *

  
# # # _When your head is broken_  
_Take my shoulder_  
_Hide your worries there_  
_Yeah, my arms are open_  
_Dreams get stolen_  
_Know that someone cares_  
_When you're thunder, lightning_  
_Screaming, fighting_  
_Drowning in despair_  
_When you're howling, hurting_  
_Lightning surging_  
_Know that I'll be there_  
_I'll stay up with you_  
_By your side 'til you repair_ # # #

* * *

* * *

For a moment, Charlie remained crouched in front of his fireplace and to keep the uneasy feeling, that had started to build in the pit of his stomach, under control, he took a deep breath. With his elbow resting on his thigh, just above his knee, Charlie clenched his hand into a tight fist. His brain threatened to flood with a deluge of negative thoughts as his mind supplied him with several worst-case scenarios and his heart attempted to force him to lose his cool.

Since it wouldn’t do him any good, he refused to give in to any of those temptations, and twenty seconds later, he snapped his fingers twice. As he turned around, he found Liam expectantly looking at him, and signalling for him to immediately break protocol and cease following the rules of their power dynamic, he slowly stood up.

“Is he alright?” Liam asked.

Given the situation, and no longer bound by the rules of their high protocol M/s agreement, he, too, got to his feet.

Charlie shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“He sounded dreadful.”

Charlie nodded.

“I’ve no idea what happened, but my gut tells me it’s bad.”

“Do you want me to come along?” Liam asked.

He waved his hand and wandlessly summoned a pile of his clothes from upstairs. He slipped on pair of snow-white boxer briefs and pulled them up, then stepped into his favourite pair of skinny black jeans. Finally, he stuck his head and arms through a plain grey t-shirt and put on a black cardigan.

Distracted, Charlie watched his partner but shook his head again.

“No. Whatever happened, I don’t want to freak him out. I’ll go alone first, see what’s going on. If I need you, I’ll send word.”

Despite the situation, Charlie couldn’t help but smile.

It didn’t often happen that he got to watch Liam put his clothes on.

Most of the time, if Liam was wearing any clothes at all, which really didn’t happen very often, Charlie enjoyed using a combination of two hand signals ― a quick circle drawn into the air with his index finger, followed by a Z, signalled with the same finger ― to tell Liam to get naked immediately.

Once Liam was fully dressed, except for his shoes and socks, Charlie walked up to him, snuck an arm around his partner’s waist and pulled him close. He kissed him on the lips, lingered for a few seconds, then brought his other hand up to run his fingers through his boy’s hair, thoroughly relishing in the softness of it.

Liam smiled and pushed into his loving touch, clearly enjoying every single second of it.

“Be careful,” he whispered.

Charlie nodded.

“Always am, you know that.”

Liam chuckled softly.

“Doesn’t hurt to remind you occasionally, Master. Especially when dragons are involved.”

Charlie grinned.

“You’ve got a point, my darling boy; however, since this is a two-legged dragon, I think you’ve got nothing to worry about. Will you be OK on your own?”

Liam nodded.

“Of course, I will. In case it slipped your attention, I’m a big boy. As for Draco, he might be a two-legged dragon, but he’s got a glare that’s far more potent than the flames of even the most vicious dragon mother.”

Charlie smacked Liam’s left butt cheek firmly.

“Less of that sass or I’ll put you over my knee when I get back, boy.”

At hearing those words, proper excitement sparkled in Liam’s eyes.

“I’ll never say no to that, Master, you know me.”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course, you don’t.”

He grinned, then cupped Liam’s cheek and caressed it lovingly with the tip of his thumb.

“Seriously though, be good. I can’t be worrying about you too.”

“You don’t have to, Master, you have my solemn promise that I’ll be as good as gold.”

Charlie nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll leave an emergency Portkey at headquarters for you. Just in case I need you to come over immediately.”

Liam acknowledged his words with a smile, then tilted his head up, silently asking for another kiss.

Charlie gave it to him without hesitation and just for good measure, he took a moment to deepen it, gently prying Liam’s lips apart with the tip of his tongue. Liam let himself fall into his embrace, surrendered to the kiss, and as their tongues met and duelled slowly and unhurriedly, Charlie felt a jolt of pleasure zap down his spine.

He’d known Liam for close to a decade, and throughout their relationship, they’d shared more kisses than he cared to remember, yet each time their lips met and their tongues touched, it felt like the very first time they’d snogged. Back then they’d remained locked at lips until they’d both been breathless.

Charlie kissed Liam for another minute or so, then gently broke away and smiled warmly.

“I love you.”

Liam’s beautiful chocolate-brown eyes glowed.

In them, Charlie saw unconditional love, unadulterated adoration, and unrestrained admiration.

Underneath all that was complete trust and deep desire.

“Simply precious and all mine,” he whispered.

Liam hummed softly and blinked.

“I love you too,” he murmured.

His voice was low and warm, and Charlie’s heart swelled in his chest and skipped a beat.

“I’ll let you know if I won’t make it back before midnight. If I do make it back before then, I’m taking you upstairs to make love to you. Probably until the early hours of the morning.”

Liam smiled.

“At another incentive to be good for my Master.”

Charlie chuckled.

“I know what brings out your submissive side,” he said with a mischievous smirk.

“That you do, Master.”

Charlie nodded.

He kissed Liam’s forehead, then broke away from their embrace, and turning on his heel, he left the living room.

Once in the hallway, he grabbed his favourite fur-lined brown dragonhide leather jacket from the walk-in closet next to the door and crouched down to tie the laces of his boots.

Liam silently watched him from the living room doorway, and unable to resist, Charlie blew him a kiss that dragged a soft giggle from the depths of Liam’s chest.

He smiled softly, and his eyes were full of warmth.

Charlie instinctively knew that he had nothing to worry about and that his boy would be perfectly fine on his own. He checked for his wand, then unlocked the front door, and opening it, he stepped over the threshold, then closed it again.

He had to walk about one hundred feet to cross the anti-apparition barrier, he’d cast around the cottage when he’d first bought the place. Once he was in the clear, he took a deep breath, concentrated on his destination, and promptly disappeared into thin air.

A few seconds later, he appeared just outside the dragon reserve’s headquarters, and greeting one of his colleagues, he marched inside and headed straight for the Portkey office.

Upon entering, Crina, who was in charge of issuing Portkeys, smiled at him.

“Bună, ce faci?”

She casually greeted him in Romanian, asking how he was.

“Bine,” he replied.

“Listen, Crina, I need a Portkey back to Britain right away, te rog. The closest you can get me to Grimmauld Place in London. Also, Liam might stop by later if I need him to join me, so have one ready for him too, just in case.”

Crina nodded.

“Just give me a second.”

She responded in fluent English with just the lightest Romanian accent, then reached for a Portkey Authorisation form, filled it out, and offered the document to him.

“Your magical signature, please.”

Charlie drew his wand and tapped it against the thick paper. He did so twice to sign for two Portkeys, one in his name, the other in Liam’s name.

A red ink stamp appeared instantaneously, green-lighting his trip back to the UK, as well as Liam’s, should he need it. As an internationally acclaimed Dragonologist, and considering his senior position here at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, he didn’t have to deal with any of the red tape that was usually attached to international Portkey travel. Each time he urgently needed to travel by Portkey, Charlie made a point to thank his lucky stars for the privilege that came with his job.

Crina tapped her own wand against the document, then opened a drawer and pulled out a simple pebble. Charlie was immediately grateful that she didn’t force a random piece of Muggle rubbish on him ― he truly loathed those types of Portkeys, hated them with a passion.

“Make it return, please.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back yet?” Crina asked.

Charlie shook his head.

“Nope.”

“OK, no problem. You’ll just have to do your own activation spell whenever you’re ready to come back or check-in with the British Portkey office if there are any problems.”

Charlie nodded.

He’d taken enough Portkey trips to know how it worked.

Crina placed the pebble on her desk, tapped it with her wand, then swished it and mumbled a series of incantations. Several colourful flashes of light erupted from the tip of her wand and, one after the other disappeared into the small piece of stone.

Seemingly pleased with her work, she nodded and smiled. Placing her wand next to the plain polished rock, she got to her feet and handed Charlie the pebble.

He took it, clenched his fingers tightly around it, and moving to the designated departure point, he waited patiently.

Some thirty seconds or so passed, then the Portus spell activated. The dragon reserve headquarters’ small Portkey office began to swirl around him, rapidly spinning out of focus, and something similar to a hook behind his navel pulled Charlie towards his destination.

He disappeared a second later.

The whole trip took less than three minutes, and sensing that he’d reached his destination, Charlie loosened his hold on the Portkey and felt his world spin back into focus. A few moments later, he appeared between several thick trees and on damp, leaf-covered ground.

Charlie took a few deep breaths to rid himself of the queasiness that lingered and insisted on causing his stomach to churn, then slipped the pebble into the pocket of his blue jeans, and stepped out into the open.

It took him a moment to orient himself, but after looking around, he discovered that Crina had arranged for him to arrive in Barnard Park. He estimated that he was approximately ten minutes away from Harry’s house and deciding to walk the short distance, Charlie zipped his leather jacket up to ward off the chill and turned his collar up too.

Walking briskly, he hurried through the deserted park, eager to escape the unfriendly evening chill. This time of the year, London wasn’t very welcoming at all. It was dark, cold, and wet.

To distract himself, Charlie fished a thin, small magic-repelling case out of his right jean pocket and opening it, he took out his mobile phone and checked for a signal, then scrolled through his contact list to find Caleb’s number. He pressed the green button and brought his phone up to his ear.

It rang a few times, then Caleb answered.

“Charlie, my mate, what’s up?”

Charlie ignored his friend’s question but got straight to the point instead.

“C, listen, are you at work?”

“Nope, Stefan and I are both at home, why? Anything the matter? Are you in town?”

“I am. I’m not entirely sure yet what exactly happened, but I’m on my way to Harry’s place. I’m just around the corner, actually. Draco called me in tears earlier. I’ve no idea why he broke down before he could tell me.”

Charlie heard Caleb inhale sharply.

He replied with a single word that quite aptly described the situation.

“Fuck.”

“You can say that again. Have you spoken to either one of them this week?”

“Nah, I’ve had to pull two twenty-four-hour shifts in a row, and Anna is with us for a few days, my ex-wife is up in Scotland on business. I did meet Harry for a couple pints last week though. He seemed in high spirits and showed me this stunning piece of jewellery he’d made for his sassy little dragon.”

Charlie sighed.

He flexed his hand and buried it in the pocket of his jacket, curling it into a loose fist.

“Well, I don’t know what the hell going on yet, but I reckon something’s gone arse up.”

On the other end of the line, Caleb chuckled, and for a moment, Charlie thought he might make a crude remark with regards to Harry’s and Draco’s relationship, but the rude comment never came.

Instead, Caleb reacted exactly how Charlie expected him to respond.

He remained mature and alert.

“Listen, mate, do you need me to come out? I can leave Anna with Stefan. Those two have been talking about some boyband or other all night long. I feel absolutely ancient here. I haven’t got the foggiest who Westlife are, but apparently my daughter’s in love with a bloke called Shane, whom she wants to have babies with, and what did you know, my own boyfriend fancies the pants off this blond Dublin lad called Nico or Nicky or something like that. It’s news to me that he’s got a thing for blond blue-eyed twinks.”

Charlie laughed.

None of what Caleb had just said made any sense to him. He knew nothing about Muggle pop music, but he rather liked the idea Caleb being jealous over Stefan’s obsession with some famous celebrity. He also liked the thought of Caleb’s teenage daughter being best friends with her father’s boyfriend. It had a certain charm to it and reminded him of his own mother, who was absolutely besotted with Liam.

Whenever he brought along, she melted and turned into a complete pile of goo. Somehow, in the years he and Liam had been in a relationship, his boy had managed to wrap his mother-in-law completely around his little finger. She practically was putty in his hands. It was almost as bad as whenever his mother got her hands on one Harry Potter, whom she adored to the ends of the universe and back.

“I bet your palm is itching.”

Caleb snorted.

“More like twitching, mate, I’m gonna give it him good over the weekend. But none of that talk now or I’ll really forget myself. Do you need me to come out and meet you?”

Charlie shook his head, then remembered that Caleb couldn’t see him.

“Stay put. I’ll check out what’s going on first.”

“Alright, but if you need a hand, just give me a call. I’ll hop in the car, won’t take me longer than half an hour to make it over to Harry’s.”

“Cheers, mate. Appreciate that.”

“Not a bother. That’s what friends are for. Keep me in the loop, yeah?”

“Will do.”

Charlie ended the phone call, put his phone away again, and turning a corner, he walked up to Harry’s house.

As he approached, Number 12 Grimmauld Place gradually came into view and climbing the stairs to the front door, Charlie didn’t concern himself with the bell. He never had; Harry had included him in the wards the day he’d moved in.

Instead, he placed his hand on the doorknob, mumbled the incantation that unlocked the door, and feeling the wards accept him as a familiar, Charlie pushed the door open and entered the dark hallway.

There was light in the kitchen and in the downstairs living room, and pausing for a moment, Charlie strained his ears. Almost immediately, the sound of faint sobbing drifted through the open living room door and filled his ears.

Not bothering to take his shoes off, Charlie walked straight into the room. He took his leather jacket off, carelessly threw it across the room and onto Harry’s favourite armchair, and crouching down beside the ball of misery that was Draco, he wasted no time but unceremoniously picked him up and carried him the short distance over to the sofa. To Charlie, Draco, despite being a fully-grown man, weight almost nothing. It felt like he was carrying a feather.

Draco didn’t put up the slightest bit of resistance, and gently placing him on the sofa, Charlie sat down beside him and cradled Draco’s head in his lap. He lightly ran his fingers through Draco’s dishevelled hair, and drawing his wand, he summoned a box of tissues from the coffee table. He sheathed his wand, took one large soft tissue, and lightly wiped Draco’s tears away.

“Hush now, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Charlie kept his voice low, soft, and comforting. It was the sort of voice he used when he talked Liam down after a heavy scene. It was his Daddy Dom voice and the only time he ever let it out of the box was during aftercare when being gentle and loving was paramount. Current circumstances seemed to fit the criteria, and he didn’t even need to think twice about making an exception.

He continued to cradle Draco’s head in his lap, hugged him, and offered a plethora of reassurance and warm words of comfort, repeatedly letting Draco know that he was safe and cared for.

A solid five minutes passed before Draco’s sobs finally subsided, and he opened his bloodshot puffy red eyes. Charlie smiled down at him and used his thumb to wipe some of the tears away.

Draco blinked and handing him a fresh tissue, Charlie waited for him to blow his nose, then ran his fingers through Draco’s hair again. It hadn’t taken him long to work out that Draco responded particularly well to that gesture.

“It’s all good, I’m sure. Whatever happened, we’ll take care of it. I’m here, and we’ll deal with it together. Big brother to the rescue.”

He reassured Draco again, then pulled him into a strong bone-crushing hug.

Draco melted against him, buried his face in his chest and whimpered softly.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, he just won’t talk to me. I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t handle it.”

Charlie frowned but decided against pressing for more information. He could sense that he’d get the whole story out of Draco eventually, but first, he needed to calm him down properly, and that sort of thing couldn’t be rushed, at least not if one wanted quality.

Pressing the flat of his hand against the space between Draco’s shoulder blades, Charlie ran his hand up and down Draco’s back, hoping to soothe him that way.

It worked.

After another minute or so, Draco pulled out of his embrace, sat back on his haunches, accepted a fresh tissue from him, and wiped his eyes. They remained puffy, and his cheeks were tear-stained, but Charlie didn’t make a big deal out of it. Tears didn’t faze him in the slightest. Over the years, he’d seen his fair share of emotional outbursts.

Instead, he smiled warmly.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked.

Draco sighed.

“Upstairs. He said he wanted a shower and an early night.”

Charlie nodded.

He reached out, took Draco’s hand, and placed it between his own two hands, effectively sandwiching it.

“Did you two have a fight?”

Draco shook his head.

“No. We… It’s… I don’t know. He’s been weird for days, like he’s depressed but trying to deny it… Or like he doesn’t even realise he’s depressed. I don’t know, Charlie, I’m so fucking worried. He won’t talk to me. At all. Won’t eat properly either, and his insomnia’s been off the charts. He’s just lost in his own world. Anything remotely D/s freaks him the hell out, and he clams right up. I don’t know. I’ve tried everything apart from picking a fight with him. I’m lost. I don’t know what else to do.”

Charlie resisted the urge to frown.

Instead, he did the exact opposite and trying his best to remain positive, he smiled. He squeezed Draco’s hand a little, then opened his arms wide and silently invited him in for another hug.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and accepting the offer, he curled up beside him and rested his head on his shoulder.

Charlie patted his hair softly.

“It’s alright, pet, whatever happened, we’ll sort it together.”

Draco hummed and casually toyed with his hand, inspecting a scar. Charlie still remembered where and when he’d had gotten it. It had happened a few years ago while trying to appease a somewhat wilful dragon. Everything had gone smoothly until the very last moment when he’d gone too far and thought he might be able to get away with petting the young dragon. It hadn’t wanted any of that kind of attention and had promptly lashed out, leaving a deep scratch on the back of his hand with one of its razor-sharp talons.

“Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

Draco’s voice was low and thick with emotion.

Charlie’s chest constricted and his heart struggled to beat properly, but he stoically kept all of his emotions to himself, smiled, and fervently hoped his false positivity would trickle down and show in his voice.

“You’re family, Draco. Of course, I’ll be there when you need me.”

“I really appreciate it. You’re a good man, Charlie Weasley.”

Charlie chuckled softly.

“That’s some praise, Draco Malfoy. Thank you.”

Draco lifted his head off his chest and looked at him. He didn’t appear to be offended or in the mood to mock him for his little brotherly dig, and Charlie took that as both, a good sign and a confirmation of the solidity of their friendship.

Surprisingly, Draco remained uncharacteristically open and vulnerable, displaying all of his emotions. It was a sight, Charlie had never seen before, and from what Harry had previously told him, he knew that Draco’s speciality was to keep his heart and his thoughts locked away behind layers upon layers of protection.

Feeling privileged, Charlie treasured the chance to see Draco without all of his masks, and he rather liked this completely unguarded version of Draco. He was full of warmth and trust, and his willingness to be absolutely and completely honest was right there. It was precious.

Charlie smiled.

He’d always known that Harry was deeply attracted to and thoroughly in love with that side of Draco and that he genuinely cherished the fact that he was one of the few people Draco confided in.

It really wasn’t difficult to see why.

Like this, without any of his masks to keep him safe, it almost felt like Draco was an entirely different person. Not inherently so, and Charlie was sure that Draco still possessed the ability to glare at a moment’s notice, and dish out a healthy dose of his signature sass, but despite all that, right now there was something about him that wasn’t there when he hid behind his veil of security. It wasn’t easy to put into words and Charlie decided not to bother.

Instead, he focused on the here and now.

It was more important.

“I mean it, Charlie.”

Draco broke the silence between them.

Charlie reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder.

“I know. Listen, can we relocate to the kitchen and chat over a cuppa tea?”

Draco shrugged.

“Suppose so,” he said.

He moved off the sofa and stood on two wobbly feet, looking somewhat lost and forlorn.

Charlie stood up, steadied him, and wrapping one arm around Draco, he guided him out of the room.

They silently walked into the kitchen, and letting Draco enter first, Charlie moved over to the table and sat down, but turned around and watched Draco move around the kitchen.

He filled the electric kettle with water, flicked the switch to boil it, then opened a cupboard and took out two large mugs. It was then that he stopped, turned, and slightly leaning against the countertop, he dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it. His expression was sheepish like he was about to make a confession but couldn’t find the right words.

Eventually, he found the resolve to speak, and taking a deep breath, he stopped worrying his bottom lip.

“I, uhm, I, we, erm, the biscuits are in the hidden cupboard in the pantry and I, erm, I, can’t get them myself. Only Harry―”

Charlie smiled and waved his hand in silent dismissal.

Despite a mild bout of curiosity, he didn’t bother to ask any questions about any hidden cupboard. This was Harry’s and Draco’s house, and their rules were their rules. He had no intention of prying; it wasn’t his place to do so.

“No matter, I don’t need any biscuits.”

Draco looked unconvinced. A bit like he couldn’t fathom why anyone might drink tea but not eat any biscuits with it.

“Are you… Are you sure?”

Charlie nodded.

“Absolutely sure,” he said.

“Hm, OK, then.”

Draco turned his back on him and steeped the tea, then carried the two full mugs over to the table and set them down on coasters. He sat down opposite from Charlie and reaching across the table, Charlie took Draco’s hands and squeezed them lightly, offering more physical comfort.

“Thanks for the tea, pet, that was very kind of you.”

Draco briefly lowered his gaze and for a split-second, Charlie got a glimpse of Draco’s submissive side, though just a single eye blink later, Draco firmly hid that very part of him behind a thin veil that shrouded his silvery-grey eyes with a strange sort of mist, and to further distract from his momentary lapse of resolve, he cleared his throat.

“Do you, erm, do you want some milk for your tea? Or sugar? Lemon? Honey?”

Charlie smiled.

“Just black, Draco. You needn’t worry, I’m easy to please.”

Draco nodded.

“OK, good.”

He pulled his hands away and dropped them into his lap. He had yet to put his barriers back up and continued to look forlorn and lost.

Charlie’s heart lurched painfully in his chest, and he prayed that he would be able to fix whatever had happened between Harry and Draco to cause Draco to feel this distraught.

For a while, silence settled over the room, and Charlie made no attempt to break it but decided to wait until Draco was ready to talk.

A few more minutes ticked by, then Draco lifted his haze and looked right at him. There was a strange sort of glimmer in his eyes, almost as if he’d just remembered something that filled him with great happiness.

“The night Harry and I properly played for the very first time, I mean it was an actual scene, not just a bit of kinky sex, we sat in here just like this. Except there was no tea, we’d just finished dinner. He just sat there in that chair, like you’re doing now. He oozed confidence, and he just sat there, patiently waiting for me to absolutely lose it.”

Charlie smiled.

He didn’t need to ask Draco to know that he’d been unable to resist Harry’s dominant charm. There was something utterly irresistible about Harry whenever he made it deliberately obvious that he wanted to be in charge and that he desired the gift of submission.

“Harry knows how to play the game. He doesn’t usually tell his subs to kneel, and he doesn’t expect it either. He’s got that aura about him that makes you crave submitting to him so badly that the thought gradually becomes all-consuming. That’s natural dominance in its finest and purest form, and Harry is more than apt at it.”

Draco nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes. He just sat there, looked at me and smiled. It was this devious sort of smile that bordered on a smirk. I couldn’t work out what he was thinking about and the more time past, the more I lost it. My mind went into a complete tailspin right there and then and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I just, my knees were like butter. I tried telling him how I felt, but he wasn’t having any of it. He could tell I wanted to submit to him and that I wanted to be on my knees at his feet and he made me show him. His exact words were, ‘No, Draco, _no words_, you are very good at using them, _too good_. _Show me_ instead. Prove to me you want to please me. I want to see.’ For the love of Salazar, Charlie, my legs just gave out right there and then and I fell at his feet. I don’t know how I made it look pretty, but I do know that even if I’d tried to resist, I wouldn’t have been able to stay standing.”

Charlie grinned.

“Did you enjoy yourself that night?”

“Yes, fuck, so much. It was all so new, and I was terrified, but he was so sweet and gentle, and I just couldn’t resist him, it was the last thing I wanted to do. There simply didn’t seem to be a single good reason for me to say no, and so I just did what he asked me to do.”

Charlie hummed softly, and nodding, he reached for his tea and took a few careful sips of the hot beverage. He could hear and feel Draco’s desire, his devotion to Harry, and his love for submission. In the last two years, he’d grown a lot as a person, and it was undeniable that he’d found himself as a submissive. To Charlie, it was a delight to be privy of Draco’s unadulterated gushing. He didn’t think anyone but Harry had ever heard Draco speak like that and as he sat there listening, Charlie vowed that whatever else Draco told him tonight, would remain between the two of them.

He had no intention of ever sharing it with anyone, not even Harry. This was a private conversation, and he intended for it to stay that way. Draco valued trust, and opening up like this meant that he had a great deal of confidence in him. Charlie did not want to jeopardise that. It wasn’t in his nature to spill other people’s secrets. That was also the reason why Harry had made him his Secret Keeper. It had taken nearly two years for Bill, who’s curse-breaking skills were a force to be reckoned with, to find a way to break the old Fidelius Charm that protected Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Since the spell that activated the Fidelius Charm was ancient, Bill hadn’t been able to find a lot information about it in the many books he’d perused. Due to the complicated, multifaceted and potent nature of the spell, Bill had been forced to experiment quite a bit, something neither their mother nor his wife had condoned. In the end, he hadn’t been able to altogether remove the charm from the property, but after working out that the magical abode’s wards recognised Harry’s magical signature, and therefore accepted him as the new owner, Bill had finally been able to make specific changes to the place. Well, he’d mostly just stood next to Harry and taught him how to cast the spells since the owner of the property itself needed to perform the magic for it to work correctly.

Despite the beauty of said memory, Charlie pushed it aside and focused back on the present. He was here for a reason, and that reason was not to reminisce about old times but to help Draco and make him feel better. As such, he couldn’t quite resist praising Draco for everything he’d achieved.

“You’ve come a long way, Draco,” he said.

A faint flush coloured Draco’s cheeks a light shade of pink. Clearly embarrassed, he coughed, cleared his throat and nervously reached for an apple from the nearby fruit basket, but made no move to actually eat it.

Instead, he toyed with the stem and pressed his thumb against the firm green skin.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Somewhat abashed, he glanced away to the side and shuffled his feet underneath the table.

Once more silence settled over the room, and Charlie waited, patiently.

This time, Draco remained quiet for much longer than before, but eventually, he re-emerged from whatever private thoughts he’d dragged up, and turning his head he met Charlie’s gaze and attempted to smile.

It wasn’t a proper smile, but it wasn’t exactly a grimace either, and Charlie decided that given the circumstances, it was good enough for him. He boldly chose to stir the conversation into a direction that might help him work out whatever had happened.

“Did you and Harry play recently?” he asked.

It was a bit of a direct and rather private question, but given Draco’s level of upset, he didn’t want to rule out sub drop. However, to know for sure, he needed more information. Before he had all the facts, he couldn’t possibly come to any definite conclusion.

While it made sense for Draco to experience sub drop, it didn’t explain Harry’s odd behaviour, not even in the slightest. Charlie knew that Harry was experienced enough to be able to handle any level of sub drop without as much as batting an eyelid.

Draco hesitated for a moment or two, then nodded sheepishly.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Charlie smiled.

“If you don’t mind me asking, was it good?”

This time, Draco didn’t hesitate.

That spark of excitement reappeared in his eyes, and they gleamed brightly.

“Better than good, it was mind-blowing,” he said.

Charlie continued to smile.

“May I ask what sort of play? Keep in mind, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me.”

Draco swallowed.

He stopped playing with the apple, pushed it aside and wrapped his hands around his steaming mug of tea.

Charlie took the opportunity to cover Draco’s hands with his own.

“I’m not trying to pry, Draco, I promise you that, you can tell me as little or as much as you’re comfortable with.”

Draco nodded.

Not wanting to crowd Draco and allow him his own private space, Charlie withdrew his hands and drank a little more tea.

He reached for the apple, Draco had abandoned, and examined it from all angles, then got to his feet and walking over to the kitchen sink, he rinsed it off. He returned to the table and took a decent-sized bite.

Draco watched him for a few seconds, then sighed softly.

“We did a bit of roleplay,” he said.

Charlie nodded and smiled.

He remained silent and continued to chew on his apple. It was crisp, juicy, and very delicious.

“Harry’s Auror robes may have been involved,” Draco continued.

Charlie stopped chewing and flashed Draco a cheeky grin.

“Ah yes, a bit of authority play is always nice. Did you have fun?”

In response to the question, Draco dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it; however, despite his hesitation and silence, the way he squirmed in his chair and the dreamy look in his eyes told Charlie everything he needed to know. He didn’t need to know any of the details of Draco’s and Harry’s play to work out that whatever Harry had cooked up inside his devious little brain, Draco had thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.

Resuming to chew on his apple, Charlie swallowed, then drank more tea. He was about to ask another question when Draco surprised him by speaking up again.

“It was incredible, Charlie, it really was. Everything about it was magnificent. He planned this well in advance, and it was all just right, absolutely amazing. Harry’s attention to detail, well, let’s just say he blew my mind away. It was perfect, it was― I have no words.”

Charlie grinned.

“Harry is an all or nothing sort of guy when it comes to scenes. Bit of a perfectionist, if you ask me. I think Caleb and I rubbed off on him in that regard.”

Draco’s faint blush became a little more prominent.

“I’m not going to complain, not ever. It was― I’ve never experienced anything like it, Charlie. There were moments when I was scared, I mean the whole thing was intense on every level, but he kept checking in and made sure the pace was just right. I was high as a kite afterwards, and I’m amazed I didn’t drop because I absolutely thought I’d be depressed for days after that kind of rush.”

Charlie smiled.

“I’d say Harry took care of you so well, dropping was the last thing on your mind, consciously and subconsciously.”

Draco shrugged.

“I don’t know. I still don’t really understand this whole sub drop thing. I’ve dropped after a simple spanking before. If you ask me, this whole crash and burn thing seems to have a mind of its own. It hits you when you least expect it, but when you think it’ll most definitely happen, it doesn’t.”

Charlie nodded.

“It does have a bit of mind of its own, you’re not wrong there. It also really depends on your overall mental health in the days leading up to play and whether you’ve been under any stress or getting enough sleep. Simple things like that make a huge difference, and most of the time, prolonged aftercare really helps to ease the strength of the drop.”

Draco shot him a sort of sheepish grin, and taking a second bite of his apple, Charlie winked at him.

“I got more than twenty-four hours of aftercare after that scene.”

Charlie chuckled.

Draco’s bragging was absolutely endearing.

“Did you now? Sounds like Harry doesn’t just do perfect scenes but also gives perfect aftercare.”

“It’s non-negotiable with him. No aftercare, no play. We have a good routine, though, and I really love snuggling up to him after a scene. I think he needs it as much as I do.”

Charlie smiled.

“What sub doesn’t? Liam is a sucker for cuddles and kisses after we play, and to be quite honest, I need it too. I need us to be close and affectionate afterwards. It balances out my own adrenaline rush,” he said.

Draco was quite right. Aftercare wasn’t just something that helped a sub through the craziness of subspace. Dominants could benefit from it as well.

Draco nodded.

“I think Harry did leave me alone for a bit right after the scene, he tends to do that. I mean he cleaned me up and put me to bed, but I think he did his own thing for an hour or two, but I couldn’t be entirely sure. Maybe I thought it was an hour or two and in fact, it was just ten minutes or so. I wasn’t in full possession of my faculties after that scene. I was completely spaced out, floating on some other plane. He did join me in bed eventually, and we stayed snuggled up all night.”

Draco paused and chuckled softly.

“I remember we had a picnic in bed at three o’clock in the morning, and we fed each other and laughed and were so silly and then we just stayed in bed until lunchtime on Sunday. Neither one of us could be arsed to cook anything, so we went out to our favourite coffee shop for a late brunch, and when we got back, we went straight upstairs and back to bed to cuddle some more. We also had a bath at some point, but I have no idea when. Might have been after the picnic or late Sunday night, I don’t remember.”

Charlie listened attentively to Draco’s every word.

He swallowed the second bite of his apple and smiled.

“Sounds like you got the deluxe aftercare package, a Potter special,” he said.

Based on what Draco had just told him, he correctly deduced that he and Harry had played on Saturday and that the scene had probably lasted for most of the day.

“It was absolutely perfect, really, Charlie.”

Charlie grinned.

“I believe you, Draco. I’ve no doubt that Harry takes care of you really well. Safety is paramount, even when the play is completely crazy. Caleb really drilled that concept into Harry. I remember, he reminded him over and over again. I think he drove Harry nuts with it and I’m still amazed that Harry never hexed him for it, he certainly came close a few times.”

For a moment, it seemed like Draco wanted to ask a question or two, but after dithering for a few seconds, he simply nodded in silent acknowledgement.

“It’s Harry’s mantra. He always says that and it makes me feel so safe. I know he’d never cross any boundaries. He does love to test my limits, but deep down, I know he’d never push me too far. I don’t just know it; I can feel it whenever I’m with him.”

“He’s absolutely besotted with you; I hope you know that.”

Draco’s cheeks turned crimson.

“I swear, Charlie Weasley, I will travel to Romania and murder you in your sleep if you ever breathe a word of this, but I am so in love with this man, I’d marry him tomorrow if he asked me to.”

Charlie laughed.

“If you need a witness, let me know.”

Draco smiled.

It was a sheepish sort of smile, and once again, Charlie was able to see quite clearly what exactly Harry saw in Draco.

It was his uncanny ability to balance his sass and the part of him that was extremely outgoing and confident with his submissive side.

Somehow, Draco managed to flawlessly dance on that fine line between these two completely contradicting aspects of his character, seemingly always ready to yield to whichever part of his personality he wanted to reveal to the person he was with. It was a beautiful mix of give and take, push and pull.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Charlie nodded.

“The offer is there. Listen, I hate to change the subject, but will you please tell me a bit more about Harry’s behaviour and when he started to act oddly?”

Draco sighed.

“Hm,” he mumbled.

He hugged his mug with his hands, and for a moment or two, he toyed with the handle, then brought the cup up to his lips and sipped on his tea, closing his eyes while he did so. He let out another sigh, drank a bit more, and set the mug down again.

“I swear he was fine Saturday night and all of Sunday. I don’t think he slept particularly well Sunday night though. He didn’t hear his alarm on Monday morning, slept right through it. I actually had to shake him awake, and he was so grumpy and short-tempered. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I’d be cranky too if tossed and turned half the night and then had to get up for work in the morning.”

When Draco fell silent, Charlie smiled encouragingly.

“When did you realise that he wasn’t just grouchy because he didn’t sleep enough?”

Draco took a deep breath.

He clasped his hands together, then pulled them apart again and repeated the motion a few times.

Eventually, Charlie reached out and took Draco’s hands into his own. He squeezed them to stop Draco’s nervous fidgeting, and infusing his voice with a tiny amount of dominance, he told him to stop.

“Don’t.”

Draco’s head snapped up, and he stared at him for a full minute. He looked tense and like he couldn’t decide whether to pull away or let Charlie’s firm grip soothe and ground him a little.

After a while, he dropped his shoulders and gradually relaxed, and when it became apparent that Draco had settled for the latter, Charlie smiled and squeezed his hands encouragingly.

Draco sighed.

“That same day. I know Harry’s moods. I know what he’s like when he’s grumpy. It never lasts long. He doesn’t avoid problems or pretends they don’t exist; he fixes them. We talk, we communicate, we tell each other stuff. He always gets through to me, and even though he always seems so together and like absolutely nothing can rattle him, he’s only human, and he has his moments too. But like I said; usually we talk about things, so naturally that’s what I tried to do, and I just couldn’t get through to him. It was like he heard me talk but didn’t listen. I can’t explain it.”

Charlie nodded.

“I think I understand. Can I ask a few more questions?”

Draco inclined his head.

“Alright, so you said Harry is unusually irritable, and you mentioned that he’s not been sleeping well and that he’s lost in his own world for most of the time. What about his appetite?”

Draco shook his head and sighed.

“I made him one of his favourites tonight, he barely ate two forkfuls.”

“I see. What about work?”

Draco shook his head again and looked at him with sad silvery-grey eyes.

“I don’t think he went to work at all today.”

“Hm, OK, something about more personal, and I’m sorry to ask this, but I need to know. How about sex?”

Draco’s cheeks pinked a little, and he lowered his gaze, then shook his head.

“We made out the other day, but when I tried to take things further and especially when I tried to submit, he just froze and stopped. But even while we were kissing and touching it felt like he was doing it to do me a favour rather than because he really wanted it.”

“One last question, has he been complaining about aches or pains? Maybe a headache or abdominal cramps?”

Draco nodded rather enthusiastically.

“All of that. On Monday I thought he might be coming down with something, so I brewed a fresh batch of Pepper-Up, but it did nothing to elevate his aching muscles and sniffly nose.”

“Hm, yes, I thought as much. Well, I can tell you one thing. Even though he feels horrible, physically there’s nothing wrong with Harry; however, he’s dropping quite badly.”

A deep frown wrinkled Draco’s forehead.

“What do you mean he’s dropping?” he asked with a look of complete confusion.

Charlie smiled.

“It’s not only subs who drop, Draco. Sometimes Doms drop too.”

“Dom drop?”

Charlie nodded.

“Yes, only I don’t think Harry’s realised that he’s dropping. He seems to be consumed by persistent sadness and, I would guess, a feeling of emptiness. Perhaps he’s feeling guilty over something that happened during your roleplay, and it’s taken over his thoughts. Once you’re stuck in a vicious cycle like that, it’s rather difficult to get out of it, especially if you haven’t yet realised that’s wrong, which kind of makes it even worse.”

Draco huffed out a breath of air and pulling his hands away, he rubbed his face and sighed.

“What can I do to help? I’ve tried everything.”

Charlie leant back in his chair.

“He needs a bit of tender loving care, a few long conversations, maybe a short holiday. What Harry really needs right now is to know that you love him and that everything that happened between the two of you was consensual and that you enjoyed yourself. Since he can be a stubborn arse when he really wants to be, I reckon you’re going to have to tell him a few times for the message to sink in.”

Draco looked rather gobsmacked.

He moved his chair back, got to his feet, and started pacing up and down next to the table.

Charlie watched him for a few minutes, then resolutely reached out, grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He stood up, pulled Draco into a hug and held him tight. For a few seconds, Draco attempted to wriggle free, then he slowly relaxed and eventually, he even reciprocated the embrace.

“There, freaking out isn’t going to help you fix Harry. You need your calm and cool prosecutor’s brain for this, Draco. Dom drop isn’t the end of the world, it’s a natural side effect of intense BDSM play.”

Draco grumbled something incomprehensible, and this time, Charlie didn’t stop him from trying to wriggle free. Instead, he loosened his hold on Draco and let him go.

“Why? I don’t understand. He was fine, he was perfectly fine for two days and then, and then, and―”

Somewhat tempted to place his index finger across Draco’s lips to silence him, Charlie shook his head.

“Shush you. You’re getting all worked up again, and it’s not helping.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but this time Charlie gave him a pointed look. He received an icy glower in response, and when Draco crossed his arms over his chest, Charlie couldn’t help but smile. He reached out, placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder and squeezed.

“You can glare all you like, dragon, you don’t scare me. Now, listen carefully, I’m going to tell you a little story about myself. This happened more than a decade ago. I’d been involved in the scene for a few years, but I was still relatively new to it all, not uneducated but new. I’d less experience than Harry has now. At the time I was dating this beautiful slave girl, she was a couple years older than me, far more experienced. Caleb introduced her to me at a munch.

“We got on really well, but I wasn’t looking for anything serious, and I told her that. She was my casual playmate for a couple of months, but somehow, we started dating. It was a proper vanilla relationship, but whenever we played, we got fierce. By day she was my sweet girlfriend, but by night she turned into this masochistic painslut, and she’d beg me to hurt her, to really hurt her. She wanted bruises and bites. She wanted me to smack her around, slap her face, shake her, cane her, whip her. She liked things to be intense, extremely intense. I gave her all that and more, and for a while we had great fun.

“Then came the scene that changed everything. Due to work commitments, we hadn’t played for a while, and all our encounters had been pretty vanilla. We’d go out for dinner, walks in the park, I’d buy her flowers, we’d go shopping, you know the usual relationship stuff. One afternoon, over dessert of all things, she asked me how I felt about CNC and when I told her that I’d be open to negotiating a scene like that, she told me about one of her fantasies. She wanted me to pretend to break into her home, slap her around, really hurt her and, well, rape her.”

Pausing, Charlie took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his stomach. He didn’t especially like the memory of that particular scene or the aftermath of it, but he wanted Draco to understand. Taking a step towards the table, he reached for his tea and took several sips, then nodded to himself, and setting the mug down again, Charlie pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

He deliberately remained quiet for another minute or two and paid close attention to Draco’s facial expressions. He looked mildly uncomfortable but not wholly terrified, and Charlie took that as a good sign. He was about to continue with his story when Draco opened his mouth and asked him a question.

“Did you do it?”

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, and he sounded a little terrified.

Charlie smiled.

He nodded.

“Yes. We negotiated for a couple of days, going over important details. We discussed limits, set a safeword for just that scene and set a date. I wanted it to be perfect, so I went to great lengths to ensure she’d enjoy herself.”

“Did she?”

Charlie nodded again.

“Yes, she did. Very much so. Unfortunately, I did not. I mean, in the heat of moment I got swept away, but afterwards it was a completely different story. It was an intense scene, completely different from anything we’d ever done before. With all our other scenes, we always started slow and gradually build up intensity, but with this particular scene it was just ‘_go’_, and then it was ‘_stop_’, and while she gushed over it for days, I just couldn’t get over what I’d done to her. We’d negotiated everything, it was all consensual, but afterwards, when I looked at her, I just saw this sweet loving girl, I’d fallen pretty hard for, and my mind refused to compartmentalise. I felt like I’d violated her, and it got so bad that I couldn’t even drag myself out of bed. Every single time I looked in the mirror I saw a monster staring back at me. I couldn’t stomach the idea of food, I didn’t sleep, and I was in the worst possible mood you can imagine.”

“How did you get over it?”

Charlie chuckled softly.

“The Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts. My boss put me in charge of leading the convoy. At first, I didn’t feel up to the task, even tried to get out of it, but it didn’t take long for me really get into it, because, damnit, I was working with dragons, doing what I love. I focused on the job and when you’re handling four extremely temperamental female dragons, and one of them is a Hungarian Horntail, you really don’t have much time to focus on your mental state. At the time, it was what I needed, although after it was all over, Caleb insisted that I stay with him for a bit and he and I talked a lot about the scene and my feelings. He helped me to understand myself, stop thinking of myself as a monster and accept that I’d done nothing wrong. Incidentally, that girl was also the last woman I ever dated. After really pouring my heart out to Caleb, I finally settled on playing for my own team.”

Draco smiled.

He looked a lot more relaxed and almost happy even.

Charlie considered that a small victory.

“For all his faults, Reid’s got his heart in the right place.”

Charlie grinned.

“He likes you a great deal, do you know that?”

Draco rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Charlie laughed.

He reached out and patted Draco’s back.

To his surprise, Draco stepped forward and hugged him. Reciprocating the surprise embrace, Charlie locked his arms around Draco’s lithe frame and holding him tight, he decided to reassure him a little more.

“Harry’s not broken. He still loves you a lot, he’s just a little bit lost at the moment, and he needs an overdose of love. Force it on him if you have to. Tell him you love him a million times a day. Make him listen. Talk about the scene, make him tell you what’s weighing on his mind. Take a few days just for the two of you, no distractions and no work commitments. Connect with him, get under his skin, let him now absolutely nothing’s changed between you. I promise you; the fog is going to disappear, and he’ll come right out of his funk. He’ll be back to his old self in no time.”

Draco hugged him a little tighter, and smiling into their embrace, Charlie patted his back. They stood like this for a few minutes, then Draco slowly pulled away.

“Will you talk to him too? Afterwards I mean? You’re his big brother, and the two of you are so close, I’m sure it would help if you sat him down for a chat.”

Charlie smiled.

He nodded.

“No big deal. Tell you what, I’ll head back to the reserve tonight, but I’ll be back on Monday and I’ll bring Liam with me. We’ll spend a few days at the Burrow. Mum hasn’t seen Liam in a while. We can organise a family dinner, you know my mum, she won’t be difficult to convince. Afterwards, I’ll drag Harry out for a walk through the village, and I’ll talk to him. How does that sound?”

“Brilliant. Thank you so much.”

Charlie waved his hand dismissively.

“You’re family, Draco, and we’re there for each other. We take care of each other, and we look out for each other, this is how it works.”

Draco grinned sheepishly.

“Thank you.”

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“If you thank me one more time, I’ll get Harry to spank you just as soon as he’s feeling up to the task.”

A mischievous sparkle appeared in Draco’s silvery-grey eyes, and Charlie groaned inwardly.

“If you get Harry to do that, you’ll be doing me a favour.”

“Don’t I know it? I think it would be much better if I suggested to Harry to withhold any and all spanking pleasures for the foreseeable future.”

Draco feigned a look of outrage.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Charlie chuckled.

“Don’t tempt me, putting fiery dragons into their rightful place is my speciality. On a different note, though, how’s the whipping coming along?”

Draco laughed.

“A change of topic and a half. I’ve practised a bit, but I think I need a couple more sessions with you to get more comfortable.”

Charlie nodded.

“If you want, we’ll organise something early in the new year.”

“I’d love that.”

Charlie smiled.

“Good, but first, take care of your man. He really needs you right now.”

“I’m heading upstairs right away, and yes, I know you don’t want to hear it, but really, thank you.”

Charlie shrugged.

“Don’t mention it. Thanks for the tea and the apple.”

“Can I walk you out?”

“What kind of question is that? I expect to be escorted to the door, show me some of those impeccable aristocratic manners.”

Draco huffed out a low rumble of laughter.

“Git.”

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to.”

Charlie smiled.

He wrapped one arm around Draco, and together they left the kitchen and made their way back to the living room. There, Charlie grabbed his jacket, slipped his arms into it and zipped it up, then turned to face Draco and found himself pulled into yet another hug. He hugged Draco right back, patted his back and as he pulled back, he smiled encouragingly.

“You can do this, Draco. You two have a special bond. Harry can be a stubborn arse, but he’ll listen to you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. I’ll leave through the floo if you don’t mind. Since I’m already in London, I might as well stop by mum’s house and say hello. I can always head back to Romania from there.”

“Give her my regards.”

Charlie nodded.

“I will, Draco, I will. See you soon.”

With that, he grabbed a handful of floo powder, waited for Draco to step back, then threw the grey sandy powder into the flames, and waited for them to turn green. He stepped inside, called out his destination and disappeared in a swirl of green hotness.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) ["How To Help Your Dominant Through Dom Drop"](https://www.submissiveguide.com/fundamentals/videos/video-post-ask-lunakm-what-to-do-when-your-dominant-drops)
> 
> 2) ["3 Reasons Why Dom Drop Happens"](https://lovingbdsm.kaylalords.com/2018/04/25/dom-drop-happens/) _[This site actually offers a lot of interesting reading material, so if you're curious about various aspects of the lifestyle, feel free to peruse at your own leisure.]_
> 
> 3) Finally, a short explanation about Charlie's and Liam's relationship. I believe I mentioned previously that those two have taken their D/s relationship a step further. Charlie is the Master and Liam is the slave. A lot of their relationship is very high protocol and Charlie uses a lot of hand signals to tell Liam what he's supposed to do and what he isn't supposed to do. If you're interested in a general overview of hand signals within the BDSM community and especially in M/s relationships, check out this article: ["Illustrated Guide – Hand Signals"](https://www.devianceanddesire.com/2015/09/illustrated-guide-hand-signals/)  
Again, this website also offers a lot of interesting reading material, so anyone who wants to learn more, I recommend it for quality information.


	25. Let Me Show You (A Lovely Place Out Of Town)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after three days of writing and three days of editing, this chapter is finally ready for public consumption.
> 
> I'm looking forward to your thoughts.
> 
> Let the healing begin.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Following a luxurious stretch under the warm covers and a yawn, Harry slowly rolled onto his side and blinked. It was definitely later than usual. The curtains were open, and daylight flooded the room.

A deep frown furrowed his brow and rubbing his eyes, he blinked a few more times.

He managed to make out Draco’s very blurry silhouette and instinctively reaching out, Harry felt for his glasses, dragged them off his nightstand and shoved them onto his face.

It took him a moment to fully adjust, but as his vision sharpened, his bleary sleep-laden eyes instantly focused on the two packed suitcases that stood near the bedroom door.

He hadn’t seen them since the day Draco had removed the last few bits and pieces of his personal belongings from his Notting Hill flat and brought them over to Grimmauld Place.

A sudden piercing sensation stung the centre of his chest and feeling his inner alarm bells wreak havoc to his still drowsy mind, Harry instantly scrambled into a sitting position.

He desperately tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep, but the haze that had persistently clung to him for the last few days, refused to dissipate entirely, and mentally cursing his brain fog, he forced himself to take a deep breath, then found his voice.

“What―”

He managed one word before Draco interrupted him by walking up to the bed.

Draco climbed on top of their bed, wordlessly straddled his duvet-covered thighs, and Harry felt Draco’s long nimble fingers slither around his wrists, grasping them tightly.

A second after that, Harry found himself back in a horizontal position with Draco towering above him, looking delectable and utterly handsome.

A quite mischievous smirk hugged the edges of his mouth, and his eyes sparkled with an endearing sort of deviousness. It was the kind of sly Slytherin wickedness, the type that had attracted him to Draco from the very beginning.

Harry instinctively knew that Draco had a plan, that he was a man on a mission. Whenever Draco exhibited that type of behaviour, no matter what presently preoccupied him, whether it was work or personal issues, Harry usually caved and let his curiosity get the better of him. It had always been like this, even back at Hogwarts, when they’d, for all intents and purposes, been rivals, forced into their roles by circumstances far beyond their control.

He absolutely wanted to know what Draco was up to, preferably sooner rather than later.

The fact that he’d woken up to the sight of two suitcases, packed and ready, sitting in his and Draco’s bedroom, did not agree with Harry. While he wasn’t the kind of person to overthink things that had perfectly logical explanations and jump to conclusions that caused unnecessary drama, Harry was also acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t exactly been himself these past few days. Much of that had been due to an inexplicable melancholy, he hadn’t been able and still wasn’t, to thoroughly shake off.

Draco smiled down at him.

It was an affectionate reassuring smile, and it melted something fierce deep inside of Harry. There was a certain playfulness to Draco’s smile, but it also had an intriguing and captivating edge to it.

When Draco spoke, he used his poshest, and most aristocratic Malfoyesque drawl and Harry’s skin tingled in immediate response to it.

“Relax, Potter, we both know that you’ve been a cranky arse these past few days, but that’s not going to make me walk out on you. Far from it. I’m in this for the long run, for the good and the bad, I mightn’t have signed on the dotted line just yet, but I meant it when I made you that promise as part of our contract. Those suitcases are for the both of us, we’re going away for a couple of days.”

Harry frowned.

He was lucid enough to know that it was Friday morning and he couldn’t recall making any plans to go away with Draco.

As such, he opened his mouth, and he made a feeble attempt to protest, but before he managed to utter the first syllable, Draco shook his head, delicately shutting him up. It was like he’d taken a leaf out of their playtime rulebook, and Harry was thoroughly amused that Draco was trying to use his own weapons against him.

“Humour me, Potter, OK? Let me make the rules for a change.”

Surprised, and also somewhat taken aback, by Draco’s assertiveness and the complete confidence that oozed out of his every pore, Harry promptly closed his mouth again, and for the time being, he decided to remain silent.

Draco had mostly definitely thoroughly sparked his curiosity to the degree that he was somewhat unwilling to control himself.

“Thank you.”

A broad smile graced Draco’s face.

“Your scruffiness is unbelievably sexy; do you know that, Potter? I love that this five o’clock shadow is slowly turning into this rugged beard. It makes you even more handsome than you already are. I’m fairly certain you know exactly what this facial hair doing to my sanity because you always do, but just in case you didn’t, let me tell you. Every time I look at you, I really just want to drop to my knees and do whatever it is you desire from me. For you, I’d crawl around the house, and I’d curl up at your feet. You make me weak, Potter, so absolutely weak. We both know that you know that, but you should also know that it’s the best feeling in the world. It never takes more than a glance or a subtle touch from you. You really do know how to play the game, you play it so damn well that you own me, mind, body, and soul. I would like to remind you that I am completely and utterly in love with you. I am smitten, and I have been for the longest time. I want to be yours forever, in every way imaginable.”

Harry shuddered.

Everything Draco had just said to him, he knew, but that didn’t change the fact that he loved hearing Draco tell him all this. Draco often about his feelings and what his submission meant to him in his journal, but listening to Draco tell him all these things set every inch of him on fire. That wild thing inside of him, the one had melted into a gooey puddle a few minutes ago, slowly reformed, and a familiar sort of possessiveness gripped Harry’s heart.

_Mine, mine, mine,_ he thought possessively, _all mine_.

He’d genuinely needed to hear those words.

Draco didn’t stop there.

“Yours, Harry, I’m yours, for as long as you want me to be, you own me, all of me. I’m yours to love, yours to hurt, yours to tease, yours to take apart, and yours to put back together. I’m all yours.”

Wave after wave of intense excitement ripple through him zapped down his spine and pooled low in his groin before Harry had the chance to consciously register how twisted his reaction to Draco’s words was.

Usually, it was him who used words to drive Draco out of his mind, however, this morning, it seemed like Draco was the one in charge of rendering him defenceless, and he was doing an absolutely perfect job of it.

Although Harry had no real objections, he couldn’t help but wonder whether he was, perhaps, still asleep. Or if he was, in fact, awake, it felt like he’d woken up in some strange alternate universe where his and Draco’s roles were reversed? Draco’s words were driving him wild, and his skin continued to tingle while his body roared to life, and his heart thumped wildly in his chest, dredging up feelings, he’d not been able to feel in a few days.

Harry couldn’t make any sense of it, and since he presently lacked the necessary caffeine to persuade his mind to focus, he decided to simply wait and see.

He was quite positive that things would clear up soon enough.

Instead of taking a moment and offering up an explanation, Draco surprised him further by simply leaning down and capturing his lips in a kiss.

It was slow and tender, but it had a strange sort of domineering and subtly coercive style to it; it was yet another leaf Draco had taken out of the playtime rulebook.

Harry found it quite irresistible and rather happily surrendered to it.

Draco continued to lead the kiss, gently deepening it and flexing his fingers, Harry went with the flow. There was absolutely no reason for him to complain about what was happening and he wasn’t at all inclined to put a stop to it.

He felt Draco’s fingers intertwine with his own and squeezing lightly, Harry allowed himself a moment to relish in the lack of control he had over the situation. He knew that it wouldn’t take much for him to flip Draco over and take charge, but at this moment in time, absolutely nothing could persuade him to do so.

He stretched a little more, curled his toes, and arching his back slightly, he pushed into Draco, who responded by teasing his lips with just the very tip of his tongue.

Harry instinctively chased Draco’s tongue with his own, but when Draco pulled back, he found himself having to exercise an extraordinary amount of willpower to remain patient and the desire to take control grew just a little stronger. It was a natural response he wasn’t used to fighting. He let out a low whimper, felt and heard Draco chuckle against his lips. Continuing to refrain from striving to get the upper hand, Harry surrendered to Draco’s cheeky taunts.

Several minutes passed before Draco finally let his tongue slither into inside his mouth and when he did, Harry couldn’t help but moan into the kiss and delight in the way Draco swallowed all of his appreciative sounds.

This was heavenly, and he wanted more, so much more.

Thankfully, Draco appeared to be in a giving mood and what had started out as a soft and unrushed kiss quickly turned into a zesty and passionate battle of the tongues. Draco stroked and massaged his tongue with his own and Harry felt his brain shut down. He loved kissing Draco, couldn’t get enough of it. It was one of his favourite pastimes, something he’d happily do for an entire day.

A small part of Harry continued to urge him to take control, but he didn’t act on it; his desire to do so wasn’t quite strong enough just yet.

He wanted to know what Draco had up his sleeve, and even in his uncaffeinated, sleepy state he could tell that the only way for him to get to the bottom of Draco’s stealthy attack on him was to play along.

The intensity of the kiss made it somewhat of a challenge to supply his lungs with adequate amounts of oxygen and soon enough the burnt in his chest, demanded his attention, and commanded him to be sensible. He ignored the request until Draco gently broke away from the kiss and even though Harry’s first reaction was to breathe deeply, he opened his eyes and staring up at Draco, he found himself instantly missing the soft and slick feeling of Draco’s lips moving against his own.

“I love kissing you.”

Draco’s voice was gentle and low. He also sounded kind of breathless.

It was more of a whisper, and it filled Harry with a kind of warmth he hadn’t properly felt in a couple of days. He watched as Draco slowly pulled away from him and settled beside him on the bed.

Harry rolled onto his side, boxed his pillow into place and as he did so, Draco, quite effortlessly and with a complete disregard for his clothes, slid into a horizontal position, and reached out to trace his lips. They tingled in response to the gentle touch.

“I love you, Harry Potter.”

Harry’s heart quivered in his chest and cupping Draco’s cheek; he pressed his thumb against Draco’s kiss-swollen lips.

Draco smiled softly, then kissed the tip of his finger.

“I love you too, my little prince.”

Harry couldn’t help but use Draco’s pet name. It felt right, entirely right, and powerful.

He let his thumb linger for another few moments, then pulled away but reached for Draco’s hand and lacing their fingers together, he squeezed gently.

For a few moments, comfortable silence lingered in the space between them and Harry let his mind wander but stubbornly refused to allow it to settle on anything in particular.

These days, his thoughts were his own worst enemy. They had the uncanny ability to suck him into this powerful spiralling vortex, and each time they did, he defencelessly struggled to get out.

It had all started a day after their epic roleplay scene.

He’d felt perfectly fine immediately after their play, and for most of Sunday, he’d been on a complete high, but in the early evening things had started to go pear-shaped, and his excellent mood had steadily deteriorated.

By midnight, Draco had been fast asleep beside him by then, his mind had untwisted entirely, and released a black monster, he didn’t know how to control.

At first, he’d tried to fight it in every imaginable and conceivable way, but tiredness and the stress of a brand-new work week looming over his head had made it extremely difficult to resist the dark thoughts that threatened to take over, and at some point, even magic had stopped working. Apparently, it was impossible to use Occlumency to shield one’s own mind from the destructive forces of one’s own thoughts.

Unable to sleep, he’d tossed until the early hours of the morning, when he’d finally, and after a very long mental sparring match, drifted off into a fitful slumber. After getting up and trying to get ready for work, and even though Draco had been incredibly understanding and thoughtful, Harry hadn’t been able to shake his general annoyance, and the more he’d puzzled over his horrid mood, the worse it got.

For days, nothing had made sense. The more he tried, the worse his temper got.

Shrouded in a haze, his emotional state had rapidly gone downhill, to the degree that a deep helpless sort of despondency had replaced his initial frustration and anger, and up until last night he hadn’t been able to find a plausible explanation for his own shockingly lousy behaviour. Harry knew that, for the last couple of days, he’d been a truly awful boyfriend, life partner, and Dominant, and a wave of intense regret washed over him.

Ready to apologise, he parted his lips, but Draco instantly shuffled closer and silenced him with a tender and lingering kiss.

“I know what you want to say, Potter, and you’ve got nothing to apologise for, so don’t even try. Or do just be warned, every time you try, I’ll just kiss you. So, if you want me to snog you senseless go right ahead, I’ve got all the time in the world to give you chapped lips, and I promise you, I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Harry sighed softly.

He felt the beginnings of a smile tug on the corners of his mouth, and giving in to the sensation, he chuckled softly.

“Stubborn as they come,” he whispered.

Draco grinned and nodded.

“You bet I am. Obstinate is my middle name. You’re the only person in the world I’ll willingly surrender to, you know that, don’t you?”

Harry nodded.

“Oh, I do know that. It’s the most precious gift anyone could ever hope to get. Listen, I―”

Draco silenced him with yet another kiss.

This one was a little firmer than the previous one.

It made Harry forget all about his second attempt to apologise for having been an inattentive and absentminded boyfriend who’d ignored his duties as the Dominant partner in their relationship.

“Why is it that when we play, and I do something on purpose I end up getting a spanking, but when you’re all wilful and attempt to repeatedly get your own way, you end up reaping all manner of rewards?”

In response to that question, Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

Draco’s silvery-grey eyes sparkled with mischief, and it made it rather difficult to stop the fit of giggles that had overcome him, but after a moment or two, he managed to calm down enough to offer up his opinion.

“Perhaps you’re offering the wrong sort of incentive.”

Draco grinned.

“You’re wicked, Potter, however, I’m not mental enough to threaten you with a spanking, not even, and especially not, when you’re not feeling your best.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Draco shrugged.

“Took me a while to work out what bug bid you but now that I know, I can finally help you get back on track.”

Harry sighed.

“I know you went to Charlie for help.”

“Are you mad about it?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, you were smarter than me, I can only commend you for that. I thought about getting in touch with either Charlie or Caleb, but some weirdly depressive voice in my head kept telling me not to bother them with this. I shouldn’t have listened, could have saved us both a few days of trouble.”

“Perhaps. However, there’s no use in beating yourself up over not being strong enough to fight the darkness. I speak from personal experience, you know that.”

“You are right, I just feel that I didn’t do right by you.”

“OK, Potter, let’s get one thing straight. Your moodiness did upset me, I will admit that much because we both know I’d be lying if I said it left me unaffected, but it only upset me because I didn’t know how to help you get out of your funk. Now that I know what’s wrong, I have a plan to make you feel better.”

Harry smiled.

“Care to tell me all about your plan?”

Draco shook his head.

“Not yet, first, I want to satisfy my own burning curiosity. How did you know that Charlie stopped by last night? When I came upstairs around eleven you were fast asleep, out for the count really.”

Harry had the decency to look away in mild embarrassment.

He remained silent for a few moments, then cleared his throat.

“Long story short, I came downstairs after my shower to get a glass of water, and I heard you and Charlie talk.”

Draco clicked his tongue and frowned.

“You eavesdropped.”

Harry nodded.

“I did.”

“How much did you hear?”

Harry pressed his lips together and dithered, not really wanting to answer the question.

Draco raised his eyebrow.

“How much?”

“I’d say most of the conversation. Charlie was right. I am dropping, the moment he told you, a lightbulb flashed in my head. It’s never happened before, so I didn’t see the signs. If I had, it mightn’t have gotten so bad.”

“You sound like you’re blaming yourself for being human. Stop that nonsense, Potter. We both know it’s not healthy.”

“It’s not nonsense. I can tell when you’re drop―”

“Harry James Potter, please don’t turn into the infuriating idiot you were back at Hogwarts, OK? And don’t even think about giving me some ridiculous speech about how you should always keep it together and be strong and all that because you’re the Dominant in this D/s relationship. You’re human, and that makes you perfectly imperfect. I’m not mad that you found it impossible to let me in, or that you struggled to accept my submission when I offered it to you a few days ago. A bout of Dom drop is never going to make me respect you any less when we play. You are my Sir and showing me a bit of weakness isn’t going to stop me from wanting to fall at your feet when you give me _that_ look or use _the_ voice. You’ve done nothing to violate me or my limits, and if anything, I respect you just that little bit more. It takes guts to trust someone enough to show them your weaknesses.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile.

He swallowed past the massive lump in his throat, and shuffling forward he kissed Draco softly.

“You are incredible, do you know that? I love you so much.”

“Well, I had my suspicions, but it’s nice to get a verbal confirmation of my greatness,” Draco said.

He laced his response with a healthy dose of sass, and Harry ran his fingers through his hair.

“You just wait, my little prince, I’ll find the will to push past this and―”

Draco immediately interrupted him.

“_We’ll_ push past this. We’re in this _together_. You’re _not_ alone. We’re a team.”

Unsure of what to respond to that, Harry remained quiet but hoped that the look in his eyes conveyed how grateful he was that Draco had found a way to take charge of the situation and desperately wanted to help him work through his drop.

So, instead of trying to come up with the right words to thank Draco for his unconditional love, Harry decided to find out whether he could persuade Draco to tell him more about his game plan.

He clearly had one, Harry was sure of that.

“Will you tell me where you’re taking me?”

Draco smiled.

“Home to Wiltshire. We’re going to spend a couple of days at the Manor. Breakfast’s already waiting for us, I apparated over there last night and asked our house elves to help me organise everything. Mother was already asleep, but I suspect the head house elf informed her of your arrival, she’ll be chuffed to have us around to fuss over.”

“Do I get any say in this?”

Draco shook his head.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“When do you want to leave?”

“Ideally, in the next five to ten minutes, I’m absolutely starving.”

Feeling his stomach rumble, Harry shuffled and moved into a sitting position.

“Now that you mentioned it, I feel kind of hungry.”

Draco sat up and grinned.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’ve barely eaten anything for the better part of this week, you’ve got to be famished. We need to get a decent meal into you, stuff you full of delicious goodies. The energy from that will help you feel much better.”

Harry nodded.

“True. Given me ten minutes to get ready, OK?”

Draco inclined his head.

“Sure, I’ll shrink the suitcases and bring them downstairs. Meet me in the living room when you’re done.”

“Deal.”

* * *

* * *


	26. Breakfast For Champions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, I finally have a new chapter for you.
> 
> I've yet to reply to several comments but at the moment it's a case of either I use my time to write or I reply to comments.
> 
> It's been a mad week but writing this chapter was good for me, very good.
> 
> Do enjoy.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Having made his way downstairs from Draco’s private chambers, Harry stepped into the winter garden and promptly stopping, he blinked several times at stared at the breakfast table in front of him, unable to comprehend how it hadn’t collapsed yet under the sheer weight of the food the Manor’s house elves had pilled on to top of it.

He sighed, but his lips curled into a soft smile and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Draco, this isn’t breakfast, this is enough food to feed a small army.”

Draco shrugged.

He was clearly entirely unfazed.

Harry didn’t blame him.

Draco was the type of person who was either all in or all out.

With him, there was seldom a middle ground, and even though it had taken some time to get used to it, these days, Harry didn’t want Draco any other way. If he were honest, he’d never wanted Draco any other way. He wanted all of his emotions, the full range of it, no matter whether it was fierce passion or his impulsive and ambitious temper. All of it put together made Draco the person he was, and despite his recent bout of unforeseen melancholy, Harry still managed to find this inexplicable sense of joy whenever he saw undeniable proof of the multifaceted person Draco was. It was just another one of the many, many reasons why he loved Draco with the heartfelt and powerful intensity that he did.

“I didn’t know what you might feel like, so I asked the head kitchen elf to prepare a bit of everything.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief but continued to fail to hide his amusement.

“A _bit_ of everything?” he asked.

Draco grinned.

He shrugged again.

“It’s soul food, which is exactly what the Healer ordered,” he said.

Harry shook his head once more and approached the table.

It was genuinely laden with every imaginable breakfast dish.

There were bacon rashers and perfectly golden-brown hash browns that looked delightfully crispy ― Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten either one of them. There were lightly sautéed mushrooms, breakfast sausages, baked beans in a sweet-savoury tomato sauce, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, fresh tomato slices and perfectly-diced cucumber cubes. There was also toast, brown bread, soda bread, whole-wheat bread and a basket with an assortment of bread rolls, croissants and various other pastries, some sweet and some savoury. Next to all the baked goods was a plate with a pile of golden pancakes, and small bowls filled with chocolate spread, and various jams, and marmalade. A cheese platter with an unbelievably rich variety of cheeses, decorated with fresh basil leaves, took up an ample space beside the plate of pancakes.

The Manor’s elves had also prepared several different types of cereals and some muesli. There was fresh milk, soy milk, and plain, homemade yoghurt. Then there were bowls of fresh fruits that included perfectly red strawberries, firm-looking crunchy blueberries, and a plate with bananas and apples. In addition to that there was naturally-cloudy apple juice, freshly-pressed orange juice, black tea, and finally, Harry’s absolute favourite, strong black coffee.

Harry pulled a chair out and sitting down, he was about to reach for the pot of coffee, when Draco gently slapped his hand away and gave him a disapproving glare.

“The Healer said no strenuous exercise, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“And in which universe is reaching for a cup of coffee considered a strenuous exercise?” he asked.

He was thoroughly entertained and quite a bit charmed by Draco’s efforts to take care of him, and even though a large part of him tried telling him that this was wrong, that he should be the one looking out for Draco, that this was his responsibility and that he’d failed Draco in more ways than one, he resolutely told that part of him to shut up. He wanted to enjoy the moment and letting all the negative thoughts that had been swirling around his head for the better part of this week consume him was the very last thing he wanted. He was determined not to allow anything to ruin this experience, not now, not later, not ever.

“In the very universe where I have decided that you need to be pampered and loved and spoiled rotten and that none of your protests will be heard, because, Potter, trust me, you really don’t want to argue with a Senior Prosecutor for the Wizengamot. You absolutely will lose. Also, for the record, as a former member of Slytherin House, I am not above playing unfair to get what I want.”

Harry chuckled softly, and sitting back in his wicker chair, he settled into the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Wait on me then, Healer Malfoy,” he said.

It wasn’t difficult to surrender to Draco’s sassy dominance, simply because Harry knew that Draco wasn’t doing it because he wanted to change the dynamic between them but because he genuinely cared about his wellbeing and wanted to look out for him. Harry wasn’t going to begrudge Draco the desire to fuss over him. Sometimes, one gained more by taking a backseat, and Harry was more than ready to sit back.

Draco gave him a lopsided grin, Harry watched as he rose to his feet. He reached for the coffee pot and poured Harry a generous helping hot, freshly-brewed black coffee. The scent that wafted over to him was simply divine, but Harry resisted the urge to lean forward and reach for his full mug.

Instead, he waited for Draco to hand it to him, and unlocking his arms again, he made sure to brush his fingertips against the back of Draco’s hand, where he lingered for a moment longer than entirely necessary and simultaneously held Draco’s gaze.

He watched Draco swallow, and delighting in the faint flush that graced his cheeks, he smiled.

“Thank you, my love.”

Draco inclined his head but not enough to break the eye contact between them.

“Anything for you, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry felt a soft shudder slide down the length of his spine, and taking the coffee mug from Draco, he wrapped his hands around it, brought it up to his lips, inhaled deeply, and gently blowing on it, he took a few small sips and smiled quite contentedly.

“This is excellent coffee.”

Draco smiled.

“I had the feeling you’d like it.”

Harry hummed softly and drank a bit more.

It was pleasantly warm inside the winter garden. The late morning winter sun shone rather brightly through the massive windows and the roof, providing the many plants, which filled the spacious conservatory, with much-loved light. All around them were signs of the ebullience of spring, the maturity of summer, and even the majesty of autumn’s colourful coat. Each time, Harry ventured inside the Manor’s winter garden, he always felt awed by its elegance and symmetry. Each pathway, evergreen, pergola, deciduous tree, and large shrub had been planted in an effective and well thought out manner, and despite the effort that had gone into the design of the garden nothing looked forced or fake.

Plants and trees nestled up in every corner and they all seemed to get along splendidly, giving each other room to stretch and grow, curl and wind, climb and slither.

Harry’s eyes momentarily lingered on the Heuchera ‘Palace Purple’ which grew around a vignette of showy perennials. Its coiled deep purple leaves filled him with a sense of kinship. This stalwart and hardy plant had also withdrawn back into itself, much like he’d done over the past week, yet it hadn’t withdrawn so much as to appear entirely alone and out of touch. It was surrounded by colourful friends, it appeared loved.

Harry couldn’t help but smile into his coffee and absentmindedly took a few more sips of the hot beverage, letting it slowly slither down his oesophagus and warm his belly. He knew precisely why Draco had chosen the winter garden for their breakfast. It was magical, instantly replenishing and lusciously inspiring.

After a moment, Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts. He set his coffee cup down onto a wooden coaster, and sitting forward, he let his eyes wander across the table. His mouth watered, his stomach rumbled.

It took him a few moments before he was able to make a decision, but eventually, he chose two slices of toast, a bacon rasher, a hash brown and some scrambled egg. He rather inelegantly pilled everything onto one slice of toast, then pressed the other on top, and lifting his strange sandwich with both hands, he ensured that none of the filling dropped back onto the plate, and took a large bite.

Draco watched him intently, but neither shook his head nor laughed and as the utterly unhealthy food assaulted his taste buds, Harry hummed and briefly closed his eyes. He chewed, swallowed half of his first bite, then ate some more and swallowed the rest.

“I’m famished,” he said.

Draco grinned at him, poured himself some coffee and added a decent amount of milk. He then reached for a croissant, and with seemingly applying absolutely no effort to the task, he sliced it into two halves, then opened for some creamy French cheese and jam.

“That’s good because I’m not letting you leave this table until you’ve eaten so much that you’ve got a round belly to prove it.”

Harry laughed.

“I intend to stuff myself, don’t you worry, my love. You may just have to stop me eventually.”

Draco smirked.

“Not going to happen, Potter. You just gorge yourself.”

“Does that mean you’re going to go for a run with me later?”

Draco, who’d lifted his croissant up to his mouth and had been about to take a bite, paused, lowered the pastry, and closed his mouth again.

“Sure, I’ll sit on a broom and float beside you while you engage in that ghastly Muggle sport.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“It’s not ghastly, it’s fun.”

Draco scoffed.

“There’s literally nothing you can say that will convince me that that is true.”

Harry tilted his head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“So, there’s absolutely nothing sexy about your boyfriend wearing a pair of perfectly-shaped running shorts, showing off his muscular thighs and firm calves and peeling a very sweaty t-shirt off his torso, exposing a nice set of abs?”

For a moment, Draco looked positively lecherous, then he swallowed, shook his head slightly and frowned.

“Eat your food, Potter.”

Harry deliberately pouted.

“You’re no fun.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Eat. Your. Food. Potter. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Harry grinned.

“You don’t scare me, Malfoy.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him and defiantly held his gaze.

A few seconds of silence passed between them and for a moment it felt like they were back at Hogwarts, exchanging poisonous glares seconds before Madame Hooch blew her whistle, kicking off the first game of Quidditch of the season. Those moments had always been Harry’s favourite. Even though he hadn’t consciously realised it at the time, he’d always loved trying to get a rise out of Draco as much as Draco had enjoyed trying to get a rise out of him.

“I’ve no intention of scaring you, Potter; however I know for a fact that the owner of his estate can be a terrifying witch when she wants to be. So, with all due respect _Head Auror_ Potter, do not make me call my mother and tell her that you're a difficult patient.”

Harry took a moment to consider his options. He had no idea what message Draco had left for his mother to explain their sudden arrival. Narcissa wasn’t the type of woman who minded when they turned up unexpectedly. While it was true that they usually arranged to stop by for afternoon tea, she loved it just as much when they descended upon the place without as much as a warning. She’d made it perfectly clear that they were more than welcome to come over and stay whenever they wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of London.

Still, Narcissa was fiercely protective of both of them and Harry’s mind at once filled with memories of that dreadful night at the club when a fire whip show had triggered Draco’s pyrophobia and sent him into a tailspin. He still vividly remembered how Narcissa had escorted him straight into one of the bedrooms and even stood guard outside to make sure he didn’t sneak out to look for Draco before getting a few hours of sleep.

“I don’t think it will be necessary to involve your mother, my love.”

Draco chuckled.

“I had the distinct feeling you’d say this.”

Harry shrugged.

“Proof that you know me rather well.”

Draco nodded.

“Hm, yes, I do pride myself on knowing exactly how to handle you.”

Harry chortled and finished the last bite of his toast, chewing it slowly.

After he’d swallowed it all down, he reached for his coffee and took several sips, then held Draco’s gaze.

A wave of deviousness washed over him and delighting in the familiar feeling of it, he decided to spread his wings. He grasped his sudden desire to exert a little bit of dominance over Draco, and still refusing to break eye contact with his perfect little prince, Harry smirked.

“Do you really, though? I mean, I don’t have to rely on anyone’s mother to get you to do what I want you to do, it’s all me.”

Draco’s first response was to shudder.

His second was to shift a little in his wicker chair.

His third was to break eye contact and avert his gaze.

A faint blush coloured the milky skin of his cheeks, and Harry licked his lips in silent appreciation, then deliberately lowered his voice down to a low and husky whisper.

“You’re pretty like that, my sweet little prince.”

Draco squirmed and keeping his head lowered, he gripped the edge of the table, holding on to it tightly. Harry knew that he was revelling in the sensations of having been praised for the beautiful flush to his cheeks and as the seconds ticked by, it intensified, and soon enough his delicious pink blush turned into a deeper shade of red. It wasn’t embarrassment as such, but rather an extraordinary kind of excitement and Harry felt his melancholy slip just a little bit further out of reach. It was far from gone but seeing the effect he had on Draco, and how much his little prince loved it when he playfully took control, felt like he’d just swallowed a spoonful of a sweet-tasting and rather magical healing potion.

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit, each one of them lost in their own thoughts, and just as Harry had decided to eat several pancakes, Draco rose to his feet and walked around the large round table. He wordlessly wrapped his arms around Harry, who, without a moment’s hesitation, reciprocated the unexpected but not unwelcome embrace. They shared a slow kiss, and once Draco pulled away, he rested his forehead against Harry’s, who kept his eyes closed and delighted in the faint tingle of feeling Draco’s warm breath against his lips.

“I love you, Harry. So much.”

Humming softly, Harry let his hand trail down Draco’s back, then squeezed his hip gently.

“I love you too, Draco.”

They hugged for a little while longer, then Harry persuaded Draco to return to his seat, and they resumed their breakfast.

Draco refilled his coffee mug without Harry having to ask him for it, and they ate mostly in silence but occasionally bantered back and forth, making little digs at each other.

Harry felt more content than he’d done since before their epic roleplay scene and after the better part of an hour, he was so stuffed full of food that he groaned, leant back in his wicker chair, closed his eyes, and placing his hands on top of his stomach, he promptly fell asleep.

He woke up some half an hour later and stretching in his chair, he found the table in front of him devoid of food, except for a plate of biscuits. The elves also hadn’t cleared away his and Draco’s mugs and the pot of coffee.

Blinking, Harry stretched a second time, then focused on Draco, who had curled up in his wicker chair and had his nose stuck in a book. Drawn to the title, _Bound to You, Master_, Harry smiled.

It didn’t often happen that Draco found the time read anything but case files and law books, but he was clearly taking the time to relax with something a little less mainstream. Harry had heard of the book and the author and was vaguely aware that it was a BDSM-themed Muggle novel, but didn’t know any other details beyond that both protagonists were men and that the book had done exceptionally well.

For a while, Harry simply watched Draco and the way his eyes flickered across the page, slowly moving from the top to the bottom, then on to the next. He didn’t read especially fast, but he wasn’t a slow reader either. It was the kind of reading speed that hinted towards general enjoyment.

“Read to me?”

Harry’s question promptly broke Draco’s concentration, and turning his head to meet his gaze, he smiled sheepishly and nodded. Harry knew exactly which two words were on the tip of his tongue and he silently commended Draco for his ability to control his desire to show his submission.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love hearing Draco call him _Sir_ ― quite on the contrary, it thrilled him in ways he sometimes struggled to find the right words for ― but it was merely a case of him needing to chase a couple of demons away before he could truly feel comfortable in his Dominant skin.

Still, Harry genuinely appreciated Draco giving him the chance to take the time to regenerate. Now that he knew the reason for his recent depressive mood, dealing with it felt easier and a lot less of a chore. The fact that Draco had made it his mission to help him work through it also made things simpler.

Draco cleared his throat and turning back to the previous page, he took a moment to compose himself while Harry waited patiently.

“_My fingers curl into his hair, and tightening my grip, I yank his head back, forcing him to look up at me. Impossibly blue but watery eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I lose myself in the intense brilliance of their pellucidity. I press the silver steel ball gag, which weighs heavy on his tongue, a little further into his mouth and watch with fascination as a fresh stream of drool slides down his chin. It continues its way down his throat and soaks into the hemp rope collar I gifted him several hours ago. The index finger of my other hand curls around the O-ring at the front of the collar, I’d fashioned for him, and I give it a fierce tug, then lean forward, forcing him further back, and inevitably pushing him into a most awkward position. ‘I’m going to hurt you like I’ve never hurt you before, boy,’ I whisper into the small gap between us, then let him go completely and force him onto all fours. He obeys me willingly and without the slightest hesitation or resistance. I run the tip of a single finger down the entire length of his spine, knead his arse, and finally smack it firmly. ‘Crawl, boy,’ I say with firm conviction, ensuring that he knows this is a command and not a request._

“_I make him crawl at my heel, leading him across the room and to the edge of my favourite piece of furniture, my trusted Centurion. It’s served me well for many years, I credit the genuine mahogany and the expensive polished Italian leather, and it will do so again tonight. Like the good boy that he always is, he waits for my instructions before settling astride my customised spanking horse and I promptly fasten his collar to a steel ring at the front, forcing him to turn his head sideways, then use more rope to restrain his wrists and ankles, making it virtually impossible to get away. I work my last and longest piece of rope around his midriff and his shoulders, strapping him completely to the cool leather beneath him and admire my handiwork. Tonight, I really want him to feel each strike and tied down like this, he won’t be able to arch his back at all. He’ll have to take the pain, all of it, he’ll have to ensure every blow without relief and knowing him, he’ll love every second of his experience._”

When Draco paused to drink a bit of coffee, Harry shifted in his wicker chair and discreetly attempted to rearrange himself. Draco’s voice was a low, raspy, and thick with desire. His flushed cheeks were clear evidence of the fact that the idea of a being bound with ropes, gagged and about to be spanked within an inch of his life clearly appealed to him.

Harry’s mind flooded with memories of his and Draco’s roleplay and how he’d taken such joy in spanking him with that crop and his hands until his arse gleamed bright red, but a little shudder and a pesky demon at once ruined the delightful imagery. Pushing any and all thoughts of spanking Draco as far away from him as possible, Harry dragged himself to his feet and stretched.

He wasn’t sure whether Draco had sensed that something seemed off about him, but he snapped the book shut and drawing his wand, he shrunk it with a tap, then slipped it into his pocket.

“The weather is glorious, don’t you think?”

Harry nodded.

Draco smiled, got up and sliding up beside him, he wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled into him. Without thinking, Harry lifted his arm and wrapping it around Draco’s shoulder, he pulled him closer and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I think I should read to you more often, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled.

He brought his other hand up and traced Draco’s light-pink lips with the tip of his thumb.

“You most definitely should. You truly have the most marvellous voice.”

Draco chuckled.

“You’re biased, Mr Potter, but I’ll take that compliment anyway.”

Harry grinned.

“Good boy.”

The words slipped out of his mouth before he’d consciously registered that he’d been about to say them, and Draco held his gaze. His silvery-grey eyes sparkled with promise, with trust, with love, and with desire. Without thinking, Harry closed the small gap between them and kissed Draco, plunging his tongue deep into his mouth and possessively claiming and re-claiming what was his and what he hoped would always remain his, preferably until the day he took his very last breath.

They kissed for the longest time, and until they were both thoroughly breathless. His burning lungs were the only reason why Harry eventually broke away and awed by the intensity and ferocity of their heated battle of tongues, Harry took several moments to regulate his breathing and even longer to find the will to speak.

He opened his mouth and was about to say something but Draco cheekily silenced him by placing a finger across his lips and shaking his head.

“Let’s go for a walk, OK?”

Distracted, Harry didn’t even bother to try and remember what he’d been about to say.

Instead, he nodded.

“Great, I’ll get our coats.”

Draco extracted himself from their embrace, and as he left the winter garden and disappeared around the corner, Harry found himself staring after him, trying to make sense of his emotions. Right this moment, they were all over the place. His desire to dominate Draco had roared to life deep inside of him and while he didn’t want to control it, wasn’t even used to having to do so anymore, the demons, that had so successfully subdued him over the last few days, kept trying to tell him otherwise.

He felt guilty for reasons he couldn’t quite discern and weirdly enough, each time he thought of spanking Draco, images of him branding a cane and actually striking Draco with it, flashed through his mind. It wasn’t what he wanted, far from it, or perhaps it was precisely what he wanted, and he just didn’t know how to admit it to himself, but he couldn’t shake the images, couldn’t shake the strange feeling in the centre of his chest that held him captive.

Racking his fingers through his messy hair, Harry growled into the empty winter garden, and staring at a small and upcoming palm tree, he dropped his arms to his sides and sighed. This endless vortex of emotions was driving him around the bend, and he wished they would just disappear already. They seemed determined to bring him down and although he was trying his hardest not to let him, continuously having to fight them off was exhausting.

Thankfully, Draco chose precisely that moment to reappear. He carried two coats, two scarves, two hats, and two pairs of gloves. The absurdity of it, especially in contrast to the turmoil that was going on inside his own head, made Harry laugh.

Draco frowned, then pulled a face.

“Master Malfoy and Master Potter must wrap up warm, it is cold in the gardens. Master Malfoy, must take the scarves, hat, and gloves, Libby insists,” he drawled with a bored undertone, copying one of the house elves.

Harry laughed harder.

Draco glowered at him.

“I swear, she wrapped herself around my leg and wouldn’t let go until I let her have it her way. And then they say house elves live to serve their Masters. This lot absolutely do not, they run this place, they make the rules.”

Harry doubled over and hugged his belly, feeling it cramp as he continued to laugh away, unable and unwilling to control his outburst.

He turned his head sideways and glanced at Draco, who’d drawn his wand and was presently aiming it at him.

“Yes, Potter, highly amusing, truly,” he drawled.

Harry felt the wisp of magic swish through the air and had just about enough time to thrust his hand out to wandlessly block the stinging hex, Draco had just thrown at him and straightened up.

“Oh, Malfoy, you didn’t!” he growled.

Draco grinned unashamedly.

“As you can see, Potter, I did.”

Narrowing his eyes, Harry didn’t even bother to warn Draco, and wandlessly threw a disarming charm against him.

Draco blocked it with a bored flick, then raised an eyebrow at him.

“Seriously, Potter? Could you at least try and be a bit more imaginative?”

Pressing his lips together in annoyance, Harry, still not drawing his own wand, threw a stinging hex at Draco but wasn’t at all prepared when Draco blocked it and threw it right back at him. It struck him square in the thigh, and yelping, Harry rubbed the sore spot.

This time, he actually drew his wand and pointed it squarely at Draco’s chest.

“You’re on, Malfoy!” he yelled.

He felt all sorts of giddy and a childish excitement crawled through his veins, causing his heart to thump wildly in the centre of his chest.

“Give it your best shot, Potter, I’ll beat you any time.”

Draco baited him, and they began to circle around the wicker table, lazily throwing a wicked assortment of spells at each other.

Harry made another two attempts to disarm Draco, but Draco blocked them both and retaliated with a stinging hex. None of their offensive and defensive spells was seriously armful and the entire duel and a sort of playful feel to it, but at some point, the tablecloth started smoking, and Harry had to cast Aguamenti at it to prevent it from possibly going up in flames.

They continued their high-spirited battle of wands, throwing spells back and forth until they found themselves both stripped of their wands and a booming female voice, echoed around the winter garden.

“Draco Malfoy! Harry Potter! What in Slytherin’s name are you doing in my conservatory?!”

Narcissa sounded thunderous and turning to face her, Harry shuddered at the positively murderous expression in her blazing blue eyes. She held her own wand in her right hand and both their wands in her left hand.

“Mother! We’re just having a bit of fun.”

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at her son.

“You call destroying my winter garden fun, Draco Malfoy? Do not think I won’t use my powers as the Mistress of his Manor to ground you up in your room, young man!”

“Seriously, mum, loosen up, it’s not like we’ve destroyed anything.”

Narcissa’s nose flared.

“Not yet,” she said with a cold voice.

“Get out of the house and find something else to burn off your energy, you’re acting like teenagers, and I won’t have it. I’ll return your wands when I’m sure you’ve stopped being idiotic fools. What are you? 12?”

She shook her head and turning on her heel, she disappeared as quickly as she’d appeared.

For a moment, silence lingered in the winter garden, then Harry turned to look at Draco, and they both burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. It took them several minutes to regain any sort of composure, and once they did, Draco bent down and picked up their coats, scarves, gloves, and hats.

“Well, that was fun,” he said.

He sounded slightly breathless, and smirking, Harry slipped into his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck while watching Draco do the same.

“Your mother seems to disagree,” he said.

Draco shrugged.

“She’s just jealous because we didn’t ask her do join in. Didn’t you know? She’s a fierce duellist.”

Harry frowned.

“She is?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes. Her skills are right up there with McGonagall and your Auror team.”

Harry smiled.

“You know, come to think of it, it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

Draco grinned.

He reached out and placed his hat on top of his head, pulling it into place.

“This family is full of surprise, Potter.”

“We should definitely go for that walk, and you should tell me all about it.”

“Perhaps, I should.”

* * *

* * *


	27. (When Life Throws You Thorns) Hunt For Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A rose speaks of love silently in a language known only to the heart. **~Ysabeau Robine Malfoy**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the idea for this chapter hit me, I was so utterly overwhelmed with warmth and excitement that I couldn't wait to get started on writing it.
> 
> I tried really hard to rein those two boys in, but there's only so much control I'm willing to exercise before I tend to think, _"Nah, let them do whatever they want to do."_
> 
> This chapter wasn't only fun to write, I also loved the research I did for it, and although I'm now thoroughly exhausted, I'm also completely eleated.
> 
> Do enjoy.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x
> 
> P.S. I don't know who actually said the words I've quoted in the chapter summary but for the purpose of this chapter, let's assume it was someone in the Malfoy family.

* * *

* * *

Draco quickened his pace, and elegantly cutting ahead of Harry, he turned on his heel. Sure-footed and not at all worried that he might trip on the slightly uneven ground, he walked backwards, and reaching forward, he grasped both of Harry’s hands. He squeezed Harry’s hands, and as he did so, he came to a halt and pulled Harry into his arms.

It was something Harry usually did with him, but given the situation, Draco thought it fitting. Despite the chilly weather, they’d strolled around the grounds for the better part of an hour, and Draco had a distinct feeling that they weren’t going to return inside any time soon. Harry seemed to quite enjoy the fresh air, the surrounding calmness, and the fact that they were spending quality time together.

There was no rush.

They were just two people taking pleasure in being with each other. They’d chatted about this and that, though Draco had made sure to avoid the topic of Harry’s work or kink, for most of their late-morning walk. He’d felt like they weren’t yet ready to have that conversation. There would be a time for it, but it wasn’t right now. For the last few minutes, they’d walked beside each other in comfortable silence, occasionally purposefully brushing against each other, and exchanging glances and secretive smiles, mainly communicating without the use of words. One of those looks had prompted Draco to take things just a little bit further.

“Kiss me.”

He whispered his soft-spoken demand against Harry’s smooth lips, positively delighting in his rough stubble.

At the moment, Harry looked a bit scruffy, like he’d not bothered to shave for several days, which was mostly correct. Despite that, Harry’s heavy and rugged five o’clock shadow, if one could still call it that, looked genuinely marvellous. It was gradually turning into a proper beard and it gave Harry a bit of an edge; absolutely adding a bit of spice to his looks.

Although Draco had yet to say anything about Harry’s facial hair, he couldn’t wait to feel it against every inch of his skin. Each time he looked at Harry, thoughts of surrendering all control to Harry while Harry teased and tormented him in the best possible way consumed all his mind, leaving no room for anything else.

That was Harry’s speciality; he knew how to fuck with his mind without even consciously doing so. Draco wanted those prickly hairs to scratch him in his most intimate places, leaving behind red marks and a distinctive and thrilling sort of pain. He’d no doubt that Harry would eventually give him what he desired but Draco had no intention of pushing Harry into something he wasn’t quite ready for. Still, the fantasy alone was enough to lead to a heavy ache deep in the centre of his groin, but he wasn’t selfish enough to demand sexual intimacy when Harry wasn’t in the right headspace for it. It went against everything their relationship represented and he believed in.

Instead, Draco silently channelled all of his carnal desires and his frustrations into their kiss.

Harry answered his wordless plea with a ferocious sort of passion, pried his lips apart, and plunged his tongue into his mouth, kissing him hard as he repeatedly claimed every inch of his mouth. Draco allowed himself to melt against Harry’s firm body and moaned softly into the kiss. To him, this was the best feeling in the world; enveloped by Harry’s burning need to infer ownership through unambiguous actions.

It took Draco the longest time to find the will to break away from their kiss, and once he’d finally gathered up the necessary energy to do so, Harry and he were both thoroughly breathless with flushed cheeks and slick, swollen lips. Panting hard, Draco stared at Harry, mesmerised and as though they hadn’t done this, share an intimate kiss, a thousand times before.

Feeling decidedly cheeky, Draco remembered the one thing Harry used to calm him, check in with him, and help him find his centre. Even after a little over two years, he was still fascinated by the sheer power behind Harry’s innocent touch. Smiling softly, Draco let his thumbs slide up along the inside of Harry’s palms and seeking out the insides of his wrists, he pressed the tip of his thumbs against Harry’s pulse points, then began to draw slow and even circles.

“Does this do anything for you?” he asked.

Harry chuckled.

His eyes twinkled with genuine amusement, and the corners of his mouth curled upward.

“I’m not sure. Nobody’s ever conditioned me to associate that sort of touch with tranquillity and safety.”

Draco huffed out a breath of fog and with it a quiet and almost suppressed laugh.

“Is that what you did to me, Potter? You trained me to respond to you like a dog being offered a treat?”

Harry dissolved into actual laughter.

It was an open-mouthed, hearty belly laugh. One that required you to throw your head back a little just so you could get more air into your lungs as you breathed.

Draco loved it.

He felt his soul dance around his thumping heart at the mere sound of it.

Harry’s laughter was always a genuine expression of his high spirits. He didn’t possess the ability to fake a gaiety, and even if he occasionally did in public, Draco could always tell the difference between what was an act and what was actual and genuine delight.

“I didn’t train a dog, Malfoy, never that. I trained a dragon, a vicious, sassy dragon. I trained a prince, a wonderful and amazing little prince; someone who continues to steal my breath away over and over again. I trained him to fall at my feet when I so desire and I still can’t believe that I’ve found someone willing to gift that side of him to me. I trained a brilliantly smart and witty man to respond to my commands, to trust me with his deepest darkest secrets, desires, and fears, and I trained him to feel safe around me at all times. Or at least, I hope it did.”

Draco swallowed hard, but because a massive lump had suddenly decided to take up residence inside of his throat, he found it nearly impossible to achieve that feat. Harry’s words touched him in places he couldn’t even begin to describe. Sure, they set off his praise kink and he couldn’t help but blush, but they also enveloped him in a cocoon of a love so intense that his heart felt like it might just burst out of his chest. He certainly didn’t think his body was able to contain all the happiness that flowed through his veins, igniting every inch of him, and making him feel completely alive.

Blinking, he smiled softly. It was a shy sort of smile and the only physical reaction he felt capable of.

“You did all that and so much more, Harry,” he said after a minute of silence.

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but since Harry stood right in front of him, Draco couldn’t bring himself to speak any louder. He also didn’t think that his vocal cords would obey him and allow him to turn up the volume, so to speak.

In response, Harry deftly switched the position of their hands around, and now it was him who was softly circling Draco’s pulse points. Even though he wasn’t stressed, worried, or in any way agitated, Draco felt a serene sort of calmness wash over him, and harnessing it, he fervently hoped that he could share it with Harry through their intense connection.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you this, but I’ve never got around to it. I will now though. Will you tell me who taught you this?”

“Taught me what?” Harry asked.

“This wrist thing.”

Harry chuckled.

“Nobody. I invented it. Every Dominant has their own way of reassuring their submissive and checking in with them, and this is mine. Years ago, back when I could barely tie a decent knot, let alone knew how to properly dominate somebody, Caleb suggested that think of something. A little touch or gesture, or a phrase, something inconspicuous enough to use in a vanilla setting. Took me a while, but I eventually came up with this.”

Draco found himself laughing softy. It was a throaty sort of laugh; more of a chuckle actually.

“I can’t believe it’s taken me over two years to find an opportunity to ask about this, but in a way, it doesn’t surprise me. Normally, when you do this, I’m not in the right frame of mind to ask you any questions and afterwards, I tend to simply forget all about it.”

Harry smiled, and when he leant closer to gently kiss him on the lips, Draco let out a faint sigh.

“Considering that I believe honest communication to be such an important part of our dynamic, it, embarrassingly enough, never actually occurred to me to tell you the history behind the wrist thing, as you call it.”

Draco chuckled.

“Is that what you call it too? The wrist thing?”

Harry grinned lopsidedly.

“I don’t think I ever settled on a name. How about Potter’s Magic Touch?”

Draco threw his head back, laughing.

“Seriously? Aren’t you even the least bit ashamed about those delusions of grandeur, Mr Potter?”

Harry casually shook his head no.

“Nah, I have no shame.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Figures. Come on, I want to show you something special.”

Harry looked at him with a curious expression and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? What?”

Draco shook his head.

“Not telling, just follow me,” he said.

Draco laced Harry’s and his fingers together, and pulling Harry along, he crossed a stretch of immaculately cut British lawn and led him over to an inconspicuous-looking old red-brick wall. It was about two metres high and from the outside, it was almost entirely overgrown with glossy-leafed, evergreen climbing vigorous vines of English ivy. Despite its green cloak, the wall looked like it was in dire need of some proper restauration and might collapse into itself at any given moment, but Draco knew that not to be the case.

It took him several minutes to find a rather well-hidden arched ingress and placing his bare hand on an old rusty metal doorknob, Draco mumbled an unlocking spell that resulted in the door swinging open. The tarnished and discoloured hinges squeaked terribly, and he grimaced as the sound assaulted his ears.

Instead of pulling Harry straight through the beautifully-arched doorway, Draco turned around, faced Harry, and smiled.

“My great-great-great-grandmother, Ysabeau Robine Malfoy, on my father side loved roses. She suffered from depression, although back then they didn’t have a proper name for it, let alone an idea of how to treat it. When she resided at Malfoy Manor, her condition was called melancholia. She was perpetually sad, hardly-ever smiled, and would sometimes vanish for days at a time, intentionally getting lost on the grounds when her lady’s maid accompanied her out into the gardens for a relaxing afternoon stroll.

“Her condition was critical, and Mother told me that she even attempted to commit suicide several times. Apparently, her deep passion for roses was the only thing in life that gave her any sort of joy, and in his desperation, my great-great-great-grandfather decided to design and build this stunning rose garden for her. Since no magical potion available at the time seemed to elevate her mood for longer than a few hours at a time, he hoped a rose garden might cure her of her sadness. According to Malfoy family history, although I don’t know how much of this is actually true, this place is supposed to be heavily infused with all sorts of ancient magic.

“Some of the roses inside this garden are the last of their kind. They are invaluable. Ignace Malfoy, the old peacock, wanted only the best for his wife. I’m not sure it’ll make a difference, but I’d like to show you the place. I’d all but forgotten about this garden, but I randomly remembered it earlier, while we were having breakfast. Mother once told me that whenever Ysabeau spent time in this garden, she would smile and hum old French folk songs while swarms of robins lined up along the wall and twittered along with her.”

Following his introduction of the Manors very special and genuinely ancient walled rose garden, Draco pulled Harry through the archway and into the actual garden, where ancient magic regulated the temperature and kept the wintry chill at bay. The English ivy that protected the outside of the wall didn’t grow along the inside wall. Here, deep box-lined borders full of rambling and climbing roses and clematis were trained on the high brick wall behind.

Draco gave Harry a moment to look around and smiled at the sheer awe he could see in Harry’s beautiful emerald-green eyes. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked around with child-like wonder, taking in the breath-taking view.

The main path, leading further into the garden, converged on a central round pond and fountain, which was surrounded by eight clipped Irish yews.

“This is incredible.”

Harry gave voice to his astonishment, and although he’d merely whispered the words, Draco had heard them loud and clear.

Inside this particular garden, and again protected by numerous ancient charms, a strange sort of tranquillity prevailed. It was almost all-consuming, and Draco himself could feel its effects on him. It felt like every single rose was determined to fill him with a lingering sort of happiness, the kind one simply couldn’t ignore. It was the sort that wormed its way under your skin, whether you wanted to or not. Along with it, a peculiar sense of youthful exuberance lingered in the air. While it didn’t make you want to break out in song and dance around the fountain without the slightest care in the world, it did have the uncanny ability to elevate your mood.

Draco couldn’t help but look at Harry, who smiled at him. Feeling his heart flutter with excitement, Draco glanced around. He hadn’t set foot into Ysabeau’s rose garden in years and couldn’t deny that the blooming display of over five-hundred varieties of blooming roses was, truly, an extraordinary sight. They were surrounded by sumptuous pale pink bourbon roses, inspired by the Empress Josephine’s famous garden, and delicate Chinese tea roses in shades of cream, pink and red. Light-crimson and deeply-scented shrubs of Rosa gallica officinalis from Persia, and other prehistoric hybrids made a deliberate and pretentious display of their stunning beauty.

Ignace Malfoy had designed the garden with an artist's eye. He had combined roses with a mix of other, ever-growing blooming plants to ensure that one couldn’t help but fall in love with one’s surroundings and forget about the sombreness of world for just a little while.

Draco gently guided Harry along the garden’s central pathway. On either side of it, two deep herbaceous flower beds boasted a selection of incredible perennials with a large variety in structure and scent, as well as a broad colour palette. Here, agapanthus, geraniums and peonies mingled with pinks, lilies, phlox and nepetas. The centre of the flower beds was filled with masses of soft blues, pinks and whites, while stronger yellows, oranges and dark pinks drew Draco’s eye along the length of the border. Everything inside this garden had been designed and chosen to complement and underplant the roses. Magic kept the roses, which were accompanied by striking spires of white foxgloves, in full bloom throughout the year.

The northern section of the garden, with its wide paths, deliberately featured a much more refreshing colour palette to provide a counterpoint to the central rose garden. Throughout the garden, beautiful green arched arbours, decorated with four varieties of climbing roses, divided the entire place into smaller sections with white wooden benches, and circular stone seats dotted all around. At the far end of the walled garden, an ancient oak tree towered over the wall and its presently bare branches stretched out over and into the garden. An old-fashioned giant swing hung from one of the thicker sturdier branches and possessed by a sudden bout of childish nostalgia, Draco broke into a run, dragging Harry along with him.

He stopped in front of the swing and pointing at it, he turned to look over his shoulder and smirked at Harry.

“I dare you,” he said.

Laughter bubbled out of Harry, and letting go of his hand, he moved to sit on the swing and curled his fingers around the thick rope on either side of the wide wooden seat.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and he grinned.

In Draco’s opinion, Harry almost looked a smidgeon too happy, but he couldn’t find it in him to begrudge Harry his juvenile joy.

They exchanged a look, one that resulted in Draco feeling a pleasant shudder trail down the entire length of his spine. It pooled low in his groin, adding to the strong urge to jump Harry’s bones and beg him to shag him six ways to Sunday and until he couldn’t tell the difference between what was up and what was down.

“I dare you to sit astride my thighs with your knees on either side of my hips.”

Something in Harry’s voice instantly made Draco take a step closer towards Harry and reaching out, he slowly closed his long fingers around the rough old rope, and stood between Harry’s parted legs.

Somehow, this rope didn’t feel much different to the ropes Harry used whenever he tied him up. Draco suddenly found himself yearning for the incredibly rush he felt whenever Harry meticulously bound him with long coils of bondage rope, creating beautiful knots and leaving him with the most fantastic rope burns.

Draco didn’t know whether Harry could tell what was presently occupying his thoughts. Still, when Harry suddenly reached out, worked his hand underneath his coat, and firmly grabbed the hem of his trousers and his belt, he practically slithered onto Harry’s lap, moving as elegantly as a snake. He leant down to capture Harry’s lips in a deep kiss but at the last moment, he stopped half an inch away from Harry’s mouth and simply waited.

“Please, Harry,” he whispered.

“Please what?”

Harry’s voice was thick and dripping with wild, untamed desire. A coil of intense hunger unfurled deep inside of Draco, and despite his best intentions, he let out a low and desperate whimper.

He didn’t want to push Harry into anything he wasn’t ready for, and he most definitely wasn’t planning on taking advantage of the rose garden’s magic, but he simply couldn’t resist that voice; he just didn’t know how to do so. Or maybe he did but simply couldn’t summon the necessary resolve to stop it from unravelling him. He felt his face flush and his heart race. His mind quieted down and all he could focus on was the sound of Harry’s breathing.

The cold palm of Harry’s hand pressed itself against his cheek, and Draco automatically leant into the touch, chasing it like a drug he was helplessly addicted to.

“Ask.”

Harry breathed the word into the tiny space between them, and Draco shivered.

He could feel the haze threatening to take over his thoughts and shaking his head slightly, he attempted to temporarily keep it at bay.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

Harry nodded.

“Yes,” he said.

“Ask.”

A spell of dizziness overwhelmed Draco, and he closed his eyes, swallowed hard, then forced himself to focus back on Harry.

“Kiss me, please.”

Harry smiled.

It was that downright devious smile he brought out whenever he was about to turn into a cat who’d just devoured a plate of cream.

“Ask properly, my little prince.”

Draco’s mouth felt dry, and his throat raspy.

His breath quickened, and his hands felt sweaty.

His entire body thrummed with the unquenchable thirst to comply with Harry’s request.

“Kiss me, please, Sir.”

The four words fell rolled off his tongue without the slightest difficulty, and as Harry’s lips covered his own, he closed his eyes and melted against Harry. His knees felt like jelly and he was half-convinced that he was about to slither off the swing and Harry’s lap when he felt Harry’s arm curl around his waist and grip his hip tightly.

He poured a strange mixture between a moan and a whimper into Harry’s welcoming mouth and thoroughly entangled in the kiss, he was only barely aware of the fact that Harry was using his feet to move the swing back and forth. The gentle sway of the swing was a stark contrast to the incredible fiery passion behind Harry’s kiss.

By the time they broke away, Draco wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, but he was thoroughly out of sorts, and it took him several deep breaths and a good few minutes before he felt clear-headed enough to sort through his thoughts.

They continued to swing backwards and forwards and even though the motion wasn’t particularly wild, Draco couldn’t help but feel as though he and Harry were flying through the air. For a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure whether the garden’s magic was affecting him more than Harry. During his previous visits to the garden, he’d never felt like this before. His love for Harry buzzed through him and he felt more alive than he’d ever felt before.

One look at Harry told him that Harry seemed to feel much the same and for a moment Draco considered the possibility of them both making tender love on the soft grass beneath their feet but abandoned the idea for something else entirely.

He cleared his throat and smiled at Harry, who reciprocated his warm gesture.

“I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear this or not, but I simply have to say this to you, Harry. If you can’t bear it, please tell me to stop, and I’ll save it for another time. I know something happened to cause your drop and I’m going wait, patiently, until you’re ready to tell me. I’m sure you have your own thoughts about it and when you’re prepared to share, I’ll be right there listening with rapt attention. In the meantime, though, I want you to know that I loved everything you did to me that day, and I know I already told you this, but I want to repeat it.

“I loved how much effort you put into the planning, and how meticulously you thought of every single aspect. You don’t do things by half and at this stage, I should be used to it, but I’m not, and I don’t think I ever will be. I loved how well you took care of me throughout the scene, I loved how you abducted me right from the Ministry Atrium and how we squabbled back and forth, I loved, loved, loved it. The way you made me feel, I don’t think I’ve got words to actually describe any of it accurately, but I’ll try and give it another shot anyway.

“You wowed me with everything you said and did during the scene. There was absolutely nothing I didn’t like. The spanking… Merlin, it’s been nearly a week and I think I can still feel it. The cursed toy, the lube, you taking me, owning me, everything. It was an incredible dream come true. You truly blew my mind. I mean, it wasn’t the first time you did that, but sheesh, Potter, you, alright, I have no more coherent words for you.”

As Draco fell silent, he watched Harry’s eyes fill with tears. They spilled over the rim of his eyes and silently rolled down his heavily stubbly cheeks, and even though he tried to blink to keep them at bay, said action only resulted in another swell of tears staining his bearded face.

Draco swallowed a sniff and reaching out, he gently removed Harry’s glasses. Holding on to them, he closed his eyes and kissed Harry’s eyelids gently.

“I love you, Sir, I love you with everything I have and then some. You fulfil me. You give me a chance to be myself. You let me spread my wings, and you treat me with more respect than anyone in my entire life ever has. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, Harry Potter, and then some.”

Draco felt a third wave of white-hot tears spill over the rim of Harry’s eyes.

“Be mine forever, Draco.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you silly fool. Yes, you always take care of me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do the same when you need it, Sir. You can count on me to step up and look after you as much as I always rely on you to keep me in line.”

Harry sniffed, and a soft chuckle erupted from the depth of his throat.

“I needed to hear that, thank you, my love.”

Draco smiled.

“I know you did,” he said.

He gently placed Harry’s glasses back onto his face and kissed him gently.

“Listen, I’m not looking to ruin the mood, but is there any chance we could get out of this garden, because if we don’t, I reckon I’ll jump your prick right here, right now.”

Harry laughed.

“If you ask me that wouldn’t be such a bad thing at all.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you would say that.”

Harry nodded.

“I would, and I am.”

Draco arched a single eyebrow at Harry and held his gaze for several seconds.

“Not a chance in hell, Potter. We’re not fucking in a rose garden, not today anyway.”

“Who’s being crude now? I was going to suggest an extended and passionate love-making session. I do have style, you know?”

Draco laughed.

“Yes, you do, and as much as I want to let you have your wicked way with me, it’s still not going to happen.”

Harry attempted to pout, but it only made Draco laugh harder.

“This sort of thing doesn’t work on me, Potter.”

“Hm, pity. Might have put some more effort into training you so that it does.”

Draco scoffed.

“Good luck with that. You may know exactly how to pull the rug from under my feet, but I’m no pushover I’ll have you know.”

Harry grinned.

“Now that’s a theory I might have to test like right now.”

Before Draco had the chance to properly prepare himself, Harry stopped swinging, picked him up and got to his feet. He yelped in protest and thumped Harry’s shoulders repeatedly, but Harry paid him no heed.

Instead, he took two steps forward, kneeled down on the soft grass, and pushing him onto his back, he unbuttoned his coat, and although Draco attempted to force him off, Harry’s fingers were a lot defter, and he was also stronger.

Despite Draco’s best efforts to stop Harry’s playful attack, he ended up twisting around underneath Harry as he wilfully tickled him. He buckled and contorted himself and repeatedly tried to shove Harry off, but couldn’t free himself. This was partly because he was laughing too hard to actually apply any sort of proper strength, and partly because he wasn’t trying especially hard to wriggle free.

He wasn’t the biggest fan of being tickled. Still, the amusement in Harry’s eyes and the complete seriousness with which he went about the task, made it somewhat challenging to spoil the ridiculously childish fun between them.

After about ten minutes, Harry eased up, and instead of tickling him, he simply sat astride him and beamed down at him. His green eyes sparkled with joy and he chortled with excitement.

Breathless, and with aching sides and a cramping belly, Draco simply lay on the ground and looked up at Harry. His heart skipped several beats, and he felt himself fall in love all over again.

Harry seemingly noticed the change in his expression, and as his laughter slowly died down, Draco felt Harry’s fingers close around his wrists. They squeezed tightly, and Harry dragged his arms above his head and leant forward.

“I fucking love you, Draco Malfoy,” he whispered in the small space between them.

Draco’s stomach flipped upside down, and the butterflies in it fluttered about madly.

“I love you too,” he replied.

* * *

* * *


	28. Lazy Sunday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling a bit under the weather today. It's Christmas and I'm away from my family and friends. My girlfriend is halfway across the world from me and I'll have to wait another twenty-two days before I get to see her. Work is about to get seriously stressful. I've got a sniffly nose and a bit of a headache.
> 
> For all those reasons and general tiredness, I wasn't going to write today, but I felt such a strong pull towards this story that I simply had to sit down and finish this chapter.
> 
> A (probably) (belated) Merry Christmas, everyone. Or just Happy Holidays if you don't celebrate.
> 
> My friend made me an amazing T-shirt for Christmas. It's purple, which is my favourite colour and says the following:
> 
> **"Little Prince,**  
**Kneel**  
**written by Selly87"**
> 
> Granted, she made it before I changed my pen name, but that's of little importance. It feels absolutely amazing to have this and even wear this while writing this story. For reasons, I'll never be able to put into words, this story means everything to me. Absolutely everything.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> All my love,  
Selly aka DragonGirl87

* * *

* * *

A stray ray of winter sunshine cheekily tickled the tip of Harry’s nose, waking him from his light and peaceful slumber.

With a mild frown, he buried his face in the mass of pillows all around him and sneezed.

Still feeling a bit groggy and not entirely sure whether he was ready to fully wake up or not, Harry gradually rolled onto his back and blinked several times. He stretched luxuriously, curled his toes, and brought his right hand up to squint at his wristwatch.

When he couldn’t see much more than a blurry mess, he remembered that he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Somewhat indecisive about whether to grab his spectacles from the nightstand or attempt to go back to sleep, he closed his eyes again.

For a few minutes, he drifted from one thought to another but didn’t allow his mind to attach itself to anything in particular. Eventually, though, he found himself naturally gravitating towards memories of the time he and Draco had spent inside Draco’s great-great-great grandmother’s rose garden, and the many walks they’d taken together.

Draco stubbornly insisted on two long walks a day, one in the morning, after breakfast, and another one in the afternoon before they had tea together with Narcissa. Over the past few days, Draco had shown him several hidden gems, and with each walk they took, Harry became more and more convinced of the fact that he wasn’t at all familiar with the Manor’s massive grounds. Either that or things seemed to change at will and with time.

At first glance, there seemed to be nothing special about the Manor’s gardens or the nearby forest, or even the lake, but the closer one looked, the more mysteries and magic one could discover.

During their lifetime, every single one of Draco’s ancestors had contributed a little something special to the place. Whatever magic they’d created, and whatever spells they’d woven into the ancient wards, which protected the property, it was all still there.

Harry had absolutely no doubt about the fact that the last two days at the Manor had done him a world of good. He no longer felt wholly drained without a discernible reason to reassure him that he wasn’t going insane. With Draco’s persistent and loving care, things were most definitely looking a lot less bleak. Harry could quite clearly feel himself heal. His melancholy was slowly starting to dissipate, and he was more than happy about the slow shift towards a more positive outlook on things.

Even though he now had a name for it, and understood that a spell of Dom drop wasn’t the end of the world, this perpetual inexplicable sadness vexed him and he couldn’t wait to get rid of it properly. It wasn’t him. He didn’t feel at home in this skin and wanted it gone preferably sooner rather than later.

He still had the one or other occasional doubt about his skills as a Dominant, and whether or not he’d overstepped a line during their epic roleplay a week ago, but ever since they’d arrived at the Manor, Draco had developed the perfect sixth sense for that sort of thing. Somehow, Draco was able to anticipate precisely when his mind was trying to play tricks on him and Harry was immensely grateful for Draco’s intuitiveness. It was subtle, but it was there.

Whenever his mind tried to drag him under, Draco found some way or other to pull him out of his funk. Most of the time, all he ever did was to merely gently guide his attention to something else. Other times, he kissed him senseless, entertained him with his unique brand of sass or made him a random compliment. All in all, no matter what Draco did, it all worked. But what Harry valued most of all was Draco’s unconditional willingness to be present, to be with him.

Harry knew that coming up to the end of the year, Draco’s work was busy. His plates were full and his never-ending to-do list long. Still, he’d chosen to delegate his work and asked for some time off work to focus on helping him heal. To Harry, it meant the world, and it was worth more than a thousand declarations of love.

Being the Director of the Auror Department and the Assistant Director of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement meant that Harry desk was perpetually overflowing with annoying paperwork. But ever since he and Draco had gotten together, Harry had, without as much as batting an eyelash made Draco his priority. To see his efforts repaid so willingly and without subject to any conditions made Harry’s heart swell with pride and love.

Shuffling under the heavy winter covers, Harry rolled onto his side and found himself staring at Draco’s exposed and unclothed back. His side of the duvet covers had slipped down to his waist and entirely taken in by the pale canvas before him, Harry hummed softly and licked his lips.

For a while, he didn’t do much more than allowing his eyes to slowly wander over every inch of exposed milky skin. Then, feeling an itch, he could no longer control, in his fingertips, Harry flexed his right hand and shuffling a little closer, he traced the faint outline of Draco’s spine. He started at the top of Draco’s neck and gradually dragging his fingertip across Draco’s heavenly warm and smooth skin, and when he reached the top of Draco’s buttocks, Harry covered Draco’s hip with his hand and squeezed.

Draco shifted a little, and retracing the invisible line, Harry had drawn along Draco’s perfectly curved spine, he splayed his fingers across Draco’s shoulder blade and rested it there for a moment or two. He smiled to himself, moved a little closer, and pressed a lingering kiss to Draco’s back, kissing him right in the centre of his neck.

In response, Draco produced a soft, low, and indistinct murmur that caused Harry’s heart to thump a little faster. The butterflies resting low in the pit of his stomach thrummed to life and fluttered excitedly.

Harry pressed a second kiss to Draco’s warm, soft skin. He placed it in precisely the same spot as his first kiss, then pulled back and rested his head comfortably on a pillow. He felt completely and utterly content in his little bubble and for a while, he simply lay beside Draco and imagined waking up beside his little prince for the rest of his life.

The thought amused Harry tremendously and unable to resist the temptation to keep touching Draco, Harry gently traced the outline of a Double Figure Eight knot onto Draco’s shoulder blade. He especially liked the look of this particular knot because it closely resembled an infinity symbol, and when it came to spending time with Draco, forever was just about good enough.

Chuckling at his own silly mawkishness, Harry traced a Double Carrick Bend onto Draco’s back and delighted in the mixture of a low hum and a content sigh that escaped past Draco’s lips. Encouraged, Harry traced a beautiful Celtic Knot onto Draco’s pale skin, and finally, a Fisherman’s Eye, weaving lines of invisible rope together to create a stunning pattern. He wasn’t drawing the most intricate of knots, but with no actual rope to play with, Harry was happy to leave it at that.

“Having fun?”

Draco’s voice was low, warm, husky and full of sleep.

It turned Harry into a pile of blissful goo, and closing his eyes, he shuffled as close to Draco as he could possibly get. He threw one leg over Draco’s calves and feeling utterly possessive, he wrapped his arm around Draco’s waist, pulled him an impossible inch closer, and pressed his palm to Draco’s naked chest, feeling for his heartbeat.

“Hm, yes.”

Harry murmured his answer to Draco’s question against his shoulder and inhaled deeply.

“Mine, all mine,” he whispered.

Draco’s soft chuckle send a wave of excitement surging down his spine, and it pooled somewhere in the centre of his groin, faintly reminding him of the fact that he and Draco hadn’t been this intimate with each other since after the last time they’d played.

Sure, since Draco had relocated them both to Malfoy Manor, they’d cuddled and shared several very passionate kisses, but they hadn’t done so while naked and in bed together. The realisation of the fact that they hadn’t been naked together in a week hit Harry squarely in the face and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he buried his face between Draco’s shoulder blades. He inhaled deeply, relishing in Draco’s scent.

“I’m sorry.”

Draco shuffled in his tight embrace and after exercising a whole lot of effort ― though that was mainly because Harry was somewhat disinclined to loosen his hold on his little prince and not because Draco lacked the strength to do so ― he managed to turn around to face him. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and at once felt like he might just drown in Draco’s beautiful silvery-grey eyes. They sparkled with a familiar sort of brightness and had a cutting sharpness to them that made Harry feel alive and wild. Every inch of his body tingled pleasantly, and his nerve-endings thrummed underneath his skin, gradually setting it on fire. It was the kind of sensation that overcame him when he wanted Draco; when he wanted his heart, his body, his mind, and his soul when he wanted everything Draco had to offer.

“What are you apologising for now?”

Harry sighed.

Draco’s question didn’t even remotely surprise him. Neither did his mild sarcastic undertone and even though he knew that Draco would most definitely reprimand him for thinking that he owed him an apology, Harry shared his feelings anyway.

“I know how much snuggling up together means to you and we didn’t do that for a whole week. That’s not like us. You know that I usually like to take the time to snuggle with you, I need to connect to you in that way.”

Draco’s lips almost automatically curled into a smile, and his amusement bubbled out of him in the form of warm laughter.

“Well, I will admit that there’s something exquisitely hot about having you wrap yourself all around me and hold me tight before I fall asleep, but as you can very well see, I haven’t died nor have I suffered mentally or emotionally. We’re all allowed to feel a bit off, Harry, you know that. In fact, you taught me that. You also know that I’m not mad or hold a grudge over your lack of interest being physically intimate, although I’m happy to repeat those words as many times as it takes for the message to sink in properly. Yes, I’ve missed it, but being able to share a bed with you all through the night is just as special. So is waking up next to you every morning, by the way. It’s a different kind of special, but it’s still special, it’s a privilege I absolutely cherish.”

Harry smiled.

He couldn’t think of a better response to Draco’s heartfelt words, and closing the small gap between them, he kissed him, softly and unhurriedly, infusing the kiss with a whole lot of love.

“Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

Draco smiled.

“I will always tell you what you need to hear, just like you’ll always do the same for me. That’s the beauty of what we have, isn’t it? We’re always honest with each other.”

Harry nodded.

“Yes. And thank you again, my love. Your patience means the world to me.”

“You mean the world to me.”

Harry chuckled.

“Corny.”

Draco shrugged.

“Occasionally even a Slytherin can be mawkishly sentimental. Doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Now, since you’re already in the snuggling mood, what does a man have to do to convince his boyfriend to snog him senseless.”

Harry laughed.

“Uh, I dunno, ask for it?”

Draco grinned.

“I just did. Unless, of course, you desire to see me on my knees, begging you to kiss me, please.”

Harry’s heart skipped an excited beat, then hurried to catch up and settle back into an even rhythm. He rubbed his toes against the calf of Draco’s leg and brought his hand up to run it through Draco’s exceptionally soft, but utterly messy, bed hair.

What had started as an enjoyably exciting and slow-growing craving for every aspect of Draco, had suddenly turned into an intensely stimulating need to have, to possess, to own.

Without putting too much thought into it, or letting the aftermath of his recent drop talk him out of it, Harry unlocked a well-guarded door deep inside of him, and channelling his inner Dom, he lowered his voice down to a throaty purr.

It was the kind of raspy and low-pitched sound that he knew would drive Draco wild.

“I always want you on your knees, my little prince.”

Harry watched as Draco gradually melted in his embrace, practically felt him go soft and relinquish any and all sort of control.

For a moment, Draco’s eyes glazed over, and he swallowed hard, then licked his lips and bit his bottom lip. A delightful flush rose into his cheeks, and Harry’s groin pulsed with desire.

He traced Draco’s deep pink lips with his index finger, then kissed him deeply, slithering his tongue through the slight gap between Draco’s lips to seek out the wet, warm cavern hidden behind. He explored it with wild abandon and toyed with Draco’s tongue, gently massaging it with his own.

Draco moaned into the kiss, and tightening his grip on Draco’s hair, Harry kissed him harder and deeper. He kissed him until they were both breathless and Draco’s pupils were almost completely dilated, leaving just a faint ring of his silvery-grey irises behind. Draco’s eyes looked like a stunningly beautiful solar eclipse; the kind only Harry got to see. It was for his eyes only. Draco always showed him what nobody else got to see. He didn’t hide; there was no need.

Harry took a moment to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as he possibly could, then smiled softly. He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and resting his hand at the nape of Draco’s neck, he positioned his index finger along the outline of Draco’s spine, then dragged his fingernail down the entire length.

Draco instinctively let out a low moan and arched into him, pushing his flushed naked body against Harry’s.

“My precious boy, do you like that?”

Draco whimpered.

“Yes―” he breathed.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“You forgot a little something there, my little prince, don’t you think?”

Grabbing one of Draco’s buttocks, he squeezed it firmly and possessively, digging his nails deep into the soft flesh to add a bit of zest to his possessive touch.

Draco mewled.

Harry chuckled softly.

He positively delighted in the sensations running through his veins. They set his body on fire, and egged him on, driving him to be more possessive, more dominant, more in control. He felt alive and inexplicably elated, in a way that he hadn’t in days. It felt good and right and simply perfect.

“Try again, my little prince. Do you like it when I touch you like that? When I drag my nails down your spine and grab your arse to make you mine…”

To make his point, Harry gave Draco’s butt cheek another firm squeeze, making sure to dig his nails even deeper into the firm sensitive skin.

Draco made a soft, keening noise.

It was absolutely delectable.

He first arched his back to push further into Harry’s embrace, then pushed his arse into Harry’s hand, quietly asking for more, wordlessly begging to be owned, to be controlled.

“I like it, Sir.”

Harry’s ears buzzed at hearing Draco so freely submit to his wish to address him by his title and he decided to push him a little further. He couldn’t and didn’t want to resist; he wanted Draco, badly.

“Did you miss this, my sweet little prince?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco breathed his response into the small space between them and chuckling softly, Harry kissed him deeply, claiming his mouth and lips in a way he knew would rob Draco of every single coherent thought he’d ever had.

“Show me, my love, show me just how much you missed me.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco whimpered helplessly in his arms.

He blinked a few times, and Harry watched, with the utmost delight, how he struggled to focus. He loved those moments, when Draco’s mind betrayed him and caused him to fall apart, just like that, because he didn’t want to resist the feeling of his control and composure slipping right through his fingers.

“Show me.”

Harry repeated himself.

This time he added a bit more zest to his voice, gave it a bit more of an authoritative edge. He already had Draco precisely where he wanted him, it never took much to coax Draco’s submission from him, but his devious heart wanted a little more.

“How, Sir?”

Harry smiled.

“Surprise me, my little prince,” he said.

Then, slowly pulling away, he kicked the heavy bed covers to the foot of the bed, rolled onto his back, and wandlessly surrounded the bed with a long-lasting warming charm to stop them from shivering at the cold.

“There, that’ll keep us warm instead of the covers.”

With a sly grin, Harry placed his arms behind his back, folding them to create the perfect pillow, and resting the back of his head on his crossed wrists, he lazily offered Draco a full-frontal view of himself and his half-hard cock. It lay nestled in thick curls of perfectly trimmed black pubic hair.

Draco shuffled beside him, and Harry watched him swallow hard as Draco’s stunningly beautiful eyes hungrily travelled over his naked body, drinking everything in.

“May I touch you, Sir?” he asked.

His voice was deliciously soft and low. It had a sweet warmth to it and reminded Harry of thick, golden honey.

He smiled and nodded in response.

“Of course. You have my full permission to do whatever you like; you know my limits, and whatever pleases me. My only ask is that you show me how much you missed us being intimate together.”

Draco swallowed.

He nodded his head.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

For a few moments, silence settled over them, and not in any rush, Harry simply waited.

He bent one leg at the knee, briefly curled his toes into the grey cotton sheet beneath him, then let his leg fall to the side, properly offering himself to Draco, who licked his lips in silent but evident appreciation.

* * *

* * *

Draco dithered for a few moments, then shuffled on the bed beside Harry. His hesitation didn’t stem from the fact that he was unsure how to handle the situation, but rather because he felt just a little overwhelmed. Without exerting any effort at all, Harry had twisted his mind and made it, so Draco found it impossible to resist his utterly devious demand.

Harry had completely surprised him, and he needed a moment to work out a strategy. One thing was sure, Harry wanted to be seduced, and Draco wanted to have his wicked way with Harry in the best possible way. He’d toyed with the idea ever since they’d shared that passionate kiss in his great-great-great grandmother’s rose garden, but because he was conscious of the fact that Harry needed a bit of time to recover from his drop, he hadn’t acted on his nearly unquenchable, and steadily growing, desire to jump Harry and show precisely how much he craved being intimate with him.

Now that Harry had, quite deliberately so, used _the voice_ on him, Draco’s mind was positively racing. Yes, in a way, Harry had handed him the reins and had told him that he could do whatever he wanted, but he hadn’t given him control. Draco only needed to take a look at Harry’s face to know that. Right now, Harry was firmly in control and somehow, that made the whole thing inexplicably sweeter and a lot more exciting.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Draco forced his mind to focus. He sat up and kneeled beside Harry, making sure that his bare knees touched Harry’s naked skin. With a soft smile, he ran his fingertips down the centre of Harry’s chest, circled his navel and watched Harry’s strong abdominal muscles twitch beneath his taut skin. He traced the outline of Harry’s very prominent six-pack and licked his lips in appreciation.

“You’re beyond gorgeous, Harry.”

He whispered his praise and locking eyes with Harry, he moved to straddle his hips, then shuffled just enough to feel Harry’s half-erect cock pressed up against the crack between his arse cheeks. Wriggling a bit, he teased Harry’s sensitive cock and took great pleasure in feeling Harry thrust his hips ever so slightly.

“I love you, Sir.”

Draco continued to whisper, and bracing himself on his arms, he leant forward and smiled down at Harry with an almost predatory sort of grin.

Harry chuckled softly but didn’t say anything.

Draco rather liked his attitude and slowly lowering his head, he captured Harry’s lips in a slow and teasing kiss. He gently pried Harry’s lips apart, gradually deepened the kiss and wound his tongue around Harry’s, playfully arousing him that little bit further. At the same time, he rocked his hips, rubbing his arse cheeks against Harry cock. It hardened further, filling out and growing thicker and Draco let out a soft moan, which Harry promptly swallowed. He wanted to feel Harry inside of him, wanted him to stretch him wide open. He craved the burn, the fullness, the feeling of being Harry’s, of belonging to him entirely.

Draco tried his best to ignore the burning desire that grew low in the pit of his groin and focused on kissing Harry. He shifted his upper body weight from supporting himself with both arms to supporting himself with one arm and twisting his fingers into Harry’s thick and unruly hair, he toyed with it, hummed, and gently broke away from the kiss.

He locked eyes with Harry, breathed deeply, and smiled.

“I love kissing you, Sir, you taste divine.”

Harry smiled back at him and closing his eyes, Draco lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against Harry’s slow-growing beard. The sharp stubble dug into his skin, and instead of pulling away, Draco pushed right in, relishing in the sensations.

He let out a soft little moan and kissed Harry’s earlobe.

“This, I love this, Sir, it’s everything. Scratch me with, make me feel I’m yours, leave your marks wherever you please, I’ll wear each one with pride, knowing you gave them to me as a token of your love.”

Lingering, Draco once again rubbed his cheek against Harry’s beard and keened softly. He could feel his skin burn and didn’t need a mirror to know that his actions had produced delicious red streaks. They wouldn’t last long, he knew that much, but he didn’t care. He treasured them anyway.

Harry tilted his head a little, offering him access to his neck, and Draco accepted the invitation without the slightest bit of hesitation. He covered the side of Harry’s neck with tiny kisses and occasionally nipped at the skin but never sank his teeth into the delicate skin.

Instead, he left a trail of kisses along Harry’s shoulder and the inside of his upper arm, then squeezed Harry’s biceps and pressed a lingering kiss to the flexing muscle. He lifted his head just enough to be able to look Harry in the eye, blinked, and smiled coyly.

“I love this, Sir, your arms. I love it when you hold me down, when you push me down into the mattress and restrain me, or force me to my knees and keep me there. I love when you flex those muscles and wrap your arms so tightly around me that I couldn’t possibly move, not even an inch. I love your hands, Sir, when you take my wrists and squeeze them tightly or when you grab my hair or hold my chin. I love your gentle caresses and your firm grip. It’s everything to me, Sir.”

Draco paused and watched Harry’s eyes darken steadily. They went from a bright and sparkling emerald-green to an intense shade of green to black and Draco’s heart thumped wildly in his chest at the sight of it. At this stage, Harry’s cock was fully erect and it pressed against the crack between his arse cheeks. Draco rocked his hips, teased the thick and heavy flesh and felt his need to feel Harry inside of him increase tenfold.

“I need you, Sir, so bad. I want you to have me, Sir, all of me. Do as you please, do as you desire, I’m yours, always.”

Harry parted his lips and licked them, and Draco captured them in a cheeky kiss. It was a deep and sloppy kiss and by the time he pulled away his lips tingled with energy, felt full and swollen and were wet.

He licked them, savoured Harry’s distinctive taste, buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply, then covered his chest with a thousand tiny kisses, teased his nipples, repeatedly flicked the very tip of his tongue over them, and bit them gently.

Harry let out the most delectable moan. It was deep and rich and full of desire. The sound enveloped Draco in a fiercely protective layer, one that felt more comfortable than any piece of tailormade clothing ever could. In Draco’s opinion, not even the most expensive purest silk could make him feel that way.

Only Harry could.

Harry’s actions; the things he did.

Harry’s voice, the things he said.

There was no better feeling in the world, and pausing his sensual attack on Harry’s nipples, Draco lifted his head and took the opportunity to tell Harry so.

Harry blinked, and Draco watched as his eyes filled with tears but before they could fall, he did precisely what Harry always did to him; he kissed Harry’s eyelids, kissed all the tears away and told Harry that he loved him, then kissed him deeply and without the slightest bit of restraint.

He didn’t break away for the longest time, but when he finally did, they were both breathless and panting hard.

Harry pulled his arms out from where they’d been cradling his head, and when he reached up to run his fingers through Draco’s hair and tug on it, Draco pushed into the touch and hummed softly.

To his delight, Harry continued to play with his hair and cup his cheek. He also gripped the back of his neck tightly and squeezed. It cost Draco every ounce of energy not to melt into a puddle of helplessly submissive goo. His entire body shuddered, and he couldn’t help but whimper softly.

“You’re perfect, my sweet little prince.”

Harry’s praise caused Draco to float somewhere between reality and fantasy, and it took several minutes before he managed to regain any sense of control over himself, but he didn’t manage to keep it for very long. Harry let his hands run down his arms, grabbed his wrists and pulled them behind his back. Draco automatically let himself fall forward a bit, and Harry dragged his wrists up, restraining them at an angle that Draco could feel the burn. It was uncomfortable and it hurt but it was perfect and Draco wanted the feeling to never stop.

“Sir.”

“Yes, my little prince.”

“I want you. Please.”

Harry’s soft, teasing chuckle sent a zap of energy shooting down Draco’s spine, and he tried to arch his back but what with Harry holding his arms behind his back, he wasn’t able to do so.

“How much do you want me, my love?”

“I want you with all that I’ve got, I need you, _ngh_, Sir, please, please.”

“I love it when you beg, you’re so precious when you do it, my little prince.”

Draco felt his cheeks burn, and he was quite sure that they were scarlet in colour.

Harry’s next question sent his mind into overdrive, and it threatened to short-circuit.

“Do we have lube, my precious little prince?”

It was a perfectly reasonable question but coming from Harry, it was Draco’s undoing. He shivered and let out a soft whimper, he had no way of controlling or stopping.

“Yes, Sir.”

He answered Harry with a shaky voice.

“Hm, good. Summon it, my love.”

Concentrating, Draco closed his eyes and wandlessly summoned a phial of Harry’s favourite lube. It flew straight into the palm of his hand, and closing his fingers around it, Draco held on to it until Harry took it from him.

“Do not remove your hands from behind your back, I want you to keep them there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco nodded and mutely watched Harry uncork the phial and cover his right hand with a copious amount of lube. He then expertly secured the small bottle and it didn’t take long before Draco felt Harry’s teasing fingers rub over his hole. They teased and tormented the tight ring of muscle and shuddering, Draco focused on remaining upright, a task that was becoming increasingly difficult.

After what felt like hours of teasing, Harry finally slipped one finger into him and pushed it all the way inside. He crooked it, pressed it against Draco’s prostate and Draco groaned.

“Please, Sir, please, please, please, please.”

He begged shamelessly, and Harry’s amused chuckle renewed the scarlet flush to his cheeks.

Harry continued to tease him, pressing his finger firmly against his prostate, and rubbing it and Draco moaned.

“Patience, my love.”

Harry’s other hand found his cock, and he teased it, running his thumb around the sensitive head, and Draco felt a wave of tears spring into his eyes. Not because he was overwhelmed but because the sensations were entirely too much for him to process.

Thankfully, Harry didn’t tease his cock for too long but concentrated entirely on his prostate and before long, Draco couldn’t stop but rock back and forth, ever so gently guiding Harry’s finger inside of him.

Harry swiftly pushed a second one into him, and after a few minutes, Draco felt his entire body burn with the force of an imminent prostate orgasm. He howled and tried to push the feeling down, but Harry continued to rub that sweet spot deep inside of him.

It wasn’t long before he reached the point of no return and feeling entirely overwhelmed, Draco let out a sob and felt a flood of salty tears stream down his face.

Harry’s next words robbed him of all coherency.

“Come for me, my little prince, come for me, show Sir how much you missed this, come for me, come now.”

Draco could not ignore that command. He didn’t know how to resist it. Harry had spent the last two years conditioning him to come when he was told, and it was ingrained in him. He came when Harry wanted him to come, always.

His body quite naturally responded to Harry’s order, and Draco felt his entire body tense. He shivered with excitement and shuddered at the thought of how intense his orgasm was bound to be, and letting out a long guttural moan, he felt his climax tear through him, temporarily making him feel faint. It was a powerful prostate orgasm and although his cock twitched, it never released any come and remained painfully hard. He rocked his hips back and forth and panting hard, he tried to draw as much air as possible into his lungs.

He blinked and through a thick film of blurry wetness, he tried to focus on Harry, who smiled at him.

“Precious, I love watching you come, my little prince. Let’s do it again, yes?”

Draco whimpered.

Harry’s fingers curled inside of him, and rubbed against his prostate, skilfully stimulating him.

Draco adjusted the position of his arms and digging his fingernails sharply into his forearms, he kept them locked behind his back. He could feel Harry’s hard cock press against his arse. The flesh was hot and it pulsed and Draco wanted it. He wanted it more than anything, but Harry’s incessant and deliberate teasing was making it really hard to focus.

It wasn’t long before Harry coaxed a second orgasm from him and soon after a third and a fourth, and finally a fifth. It was around then that Draco fell forward, unable to hold himself up any longer and burying his face in Harry’s chest, he sobbed hard while trying his best to breathe.

Neither really worked, but he didn’t have the energy to care about the fact that Harry had, with the use of two of his fingers, turned him into such a mess. He whimpered softly and the only thing he could think of was to thank Harry, who caressed his tear-stained cheeks and wound his fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp.

Harry gave him a few moments to come down from his high, then Draco felt an unbelievable burn and unable to bite his lip and take it, he let out a high-pitched scream and a flood of fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. Harry’s cock claimed his arse in one fluid motion and the thickness of it stretched his inner muscles beyond what they were used to. They contracted and tried to resist the sudden intrusion while the rest of his body begged for more.

Draco found himself deliriously pleading to be fucked while at the same time thanking Harry for his divine gift. He felt full, and he hurt but it was perfect, and Draco floated away on a cloud of bliss. His lips curled into a goofy grin and he pressed his lips against Harry’s chest, kissed the hot, perspired skin beneath his lips and giggled softly.

“My precious little prince.”

Harry’s words wrapped around him, forming yet another protective layer.

“Sir.”

Feeling highly intoxicated, Draco mumbled Harry’s title, then repeated it as though it was his mantra, his lifeline, his everything.

“Sweet little prince, fuck yourself for me, let me watch just how much you missed this, how much you need this, show me, my love.”

Draco mewled into Harry’s chest and forcing himself to sit upright, he held Harry’s gaze. He felt Harry grip his hips tightly, felt his fingers squeeze hard enough to bruise and consoled by the delicious dull pain, he slowly raised himself up and pulled off Harry’s cock, then slowly sunk back down and throwing his head back, he let out a low, long moan.

“Beautiful, my little prince, do that again.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco whispered the words breathlessly and repeated the action.

The burn deep inside of him slowly subsided and each time he lifted himself off Harry’s hard and throbbing cock and sank back down on it, taking it all inside of him, a wave of intense pleasure spread through him. He alternated between lifting himself up and quietly rocking his hips and with his prostate so utterly sensitive, he couldn’t help but arch his back and moan.

“Do you think you’ll manage to come again for me, my sweet little prince?”

Harry’s question cut through the thick fog inside his brain and all Draco could think was that yes, anything for Harry. Anything he wanted, when he wanted it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re such a good boy, such a good and obedient little pet. Do it then, my little prince, come for me. Show my cock how it feels when you do as I tell you and come for me.”

Draco mewled.

He sucked a lungful of air deep into his chest and rocked his hips a little faster, and occasionally lifted himself up, then lowered himself down again. His thigh muscles burned, and he was ever so grateful and Harry helped him.

Harry’s grasp on his hips remained gloriously painful, and his cock stimulated his already over-sensitive prostate.

Draco tried to draw things out a little, but he had no way of resisting Harry’s wish. Harry wanted him to come for him, and that command consumed him. It quickly became the only thing he could focus on and his body responded and propelled him closer and closer to yet another earth-shattering prostate orgasm.

His toes curled, his leg muscles burned, his hole clenched and unclenched, his cock twitched, and his balls felt tight and heavy. Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire, and digging his nails so hard into his forearms that he was convinced he’d managed to draw blood, Draco let the sensations of a mind-blowing orgasm wash over him. It tore through him and he groaned and shuddered and expelled a lungful of used-up air, then desperately tried to suck in a fresh wave to satisfy the intense craving he felt.

Harry’s tight grip on his hips guided him through his orgasm, and although he threatened to fall forward, he somehow managed to hold himself upright. Harry lifted him ever so slightly off his cock, then pounded into him without ever changing his position. Every thrust hit Draco in all the right place and he groaned and whimpered and moaned and begged for more.

“Please, please, please, Sir, please, please, please.”

A flood of Harry’s warm laughter forced another prostate orgasm from him and then Harry came deep inside of him, filling him with streak after streak of white-hot come. Draco felt himself contract around Harry’s cock, milking it, and in a state of wild excitement and ecstasy, he howled and cried out when Harry fisted his cock and brought him over the edge one last time.

He came all over Harry’s chest and falling into his own mess, he buried his face in Harry’s neck and whimpered.

His whole body felt like it was on fire. He felt Harry’s touch everywhere. All of him felt extremely sensitive, and the smallest touch made him moan into Harry’s hot skin. It tasted salty and perfect and Draco smiled against it.

“Sir.”

He mumbled Harry’s title and didn’t even put up the slightest bit of resistance when Harry manoeuvred them into a different position. Draco was vaguely aware of the fact that he was now horizontal and curling himself against Harry’s front he lay perfectly still and waited for Harry to unlock his hands.

While he’d loosened his grip, he didn’t think he was physically able to move his own arms. Harry did it for him without as much as batting an eyelid and suddenly overcome by a flood of emotions, Draco cried into Harry’s chest.

“Hush, my precious, I wanted this, thank you for giving yourself to me, my sweet little prince.”

Harry’s words washed over him like a healing balm and snuggling even closer to him, Draco wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist and hugged him tightly.

“I love you, so much, Harry. I will forever if you’ll have me.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“Of course, I’ll have you, silly. I want you more than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m all yours, Sir.”

“Hm, yes, my little prince, that you are. All mine. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Forever yours, Harry.”

“Forever mine, Draco.”

Draco couldn’t suppress the yawn that wanted out, and when Harry chuckled against the top of his head, he blushed a little and squirmed. He lifted his head and looked at Harry. He was a little surprised to find his eyes swimming with tears but apart from bringing his hand up to gently caress Harry’s cheeks, Draco did or said nothing about Harry’s public display of emotions.

He loved that part of Harry.

Harry was always open about his emotions. He shared his feelings, and he wasn’t ashamed of being overcome by them. Draco felt that he was still learning that particular lesson. To him, freely showing his own emotions wasn’t the most natural thing in the world but when it was just Harry and him, he, somehow, didn’t mind.

With Harry, he didn’t feel stupid for showing his vulnerable side. In Harry’s arms, it was perfectly acceptable to cry and be entirely dazed by the things he felt in Harry’s presence.

“I love you, Harry.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair.

“I love you too, sweet one. Let’s rest, yeah?”

Draco hummed in agreement and closing his eyes, he curled into Harry’s embrace. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry used magic to draw the covers around them, but that was about all his brain registered before he fell into a blissful slumber.

* * *

* * *


	29. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my efforts to continue 2020 on a high, I've written 5000+ words today. It was positively cathartic. The words just flowed out of me and there was no stopping me until I'd finished the chapter.
> 
> Originally, I'd had a very different plan for this chapter and how it was supposed to go, but after writing this version, I must conclude that Harry's and Draco's idea for dealing with their relationship problems as a lot better than mine.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Happy New Year!
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Sometime after their passionate love-making, though unsure for exactly how long he’d napped, Harry woke to the sound of his rumbling stomach. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stretched, yawned, then sat up, and stretched once more. He extended his hand and wandlessly summoning his glasses from nightstand beside him, he pushed them onto his nose and looked around.

Draco’s side of the bed was empty and frowning mildly; Harry glanced around Draco’s spacious bedroom. On the other side of the room, by the fireplace and between the comfortable armchairs, he spotted a small dining table and two chairs, furniture that most definitely hadn’t been there the night before.

With a smile, he threw the bedcovers back and climbed out of bed. He pulled his black cotton bathrobe off the hook attached to the bedpost nearest to him, and slipping into the garment, he tied its belt at the front, then stepped into a pair of very comfortable matching pantoffles.

About halfway across the room, Harry paused and inhaled deeply through his nose. A wave of earthy, nutty, and spicy flavours with bitter undertones and a warm, penetrating aroma with hints of lemon assaulted his nostrils. The smoky, sweet smell of cumin lingered behind.

All at once, Harry’s smile increased tenfold.

_Food_, he thought with glee, and his stomach rumbled again; a blatant and rash reminder that he and Draco had missed breakfast since they’d opted to have sex instead, something Harry couldn’t bring himself to regret. Having Draco lavish him with love and praise and then having the pleasure of making him come undone had been well worth it. Lazy morning sex with a kinky twist was the kind of thing Harry rather enjoyed skipping a meal for.

“Our Saviour has risen and walks amongst us once more, praise all ye faithful to Him, The Chosen One, the almighty Director Potter!”

Draco’s greeting, dripping with scathing sarcasm, cut Harry’s trip down memory lane short. Turning his head, Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, who stood in the doorframe to his bedroom, dressed in a pair of pressed black trousers and a white woollen jumper. He was holding a French Press, filled to the brim with steaming hot black coffee, and two shiny Slytherin-green mugs.

“What potion did you sniff while I was asleep?” Harry asked him, bemused.

Draco laughed.

He walked into the room and headed straight for the dinner table.

“None, Potter, absolutely none. While you were out for the count, I slaved away in the kitchen. I swear one could have cast The Reductor Curse right next to your ear and you’d have probably slept through that. You snored louder than a fucking dragon.”

Harry looked positively affronted and pinned Draco down with a dark glower.

“I do not snore; thank you very much.”

Draco dissolved into laughter.

“Sure, you don’t, Potter. Next time, I get one of those Muggle things and record it for you.”

Harry pulled a face and grumbling under his breath; he decided to ignore Draco’s deliberate taunts. He knew that Draco was only doing it to get a rise out of him, and he had no intention of falling for it. At least not before he’d had his first coffee.

A casual glance at his wristwatch told him that it twelve o’clock had already come and gone and feeling a slightly uncomfortable pressure in his bladder, Harry headed for Draco’s spacious en-suite bathroom. He, rather pointedly, slammed the door behind him but even the closed door didn’t drown out Draco’s very vocal amusement or his goading digs.

Trying not to pay any attention to any of the sassy remarks coming from the other side of the door, Harry relieved his bladder, then washed his hands, splashed his face with fresh water and brushed his teeth. For a moment, he considered shaving but dismissed the idea when he remembered Draco’s words from this morning. No, he most definitely wasn’t going to get rid of his new accessory any time soon. It was too much of an asset, something to torment and tease Draco with.

Smirking at his reflection in the mirror, Harry ran his fingers over his steadily growing facial hair. It looked a bit wild, and since he didn’t really like that aspect of it, he rooted through his large toiletries bag and searched for his electric Muggle shaver, hoping Draco had packed it for him.

He had.

With a skilled flick, Harry adjusted the settings, then switched it on and gave his beard a light trim, cutting it into shape. Improving his appearance didn’t take very long and switching the shaver off again, he vanished the fallen stubble with a lazy swoosh of his hand. He took one last glance at his reflection, and nodding to himself, he exited the bathroom and looked around the room.

Draco stood by the fireplace, drinking coffee. He paused mid-sip and lowering his mug again; he quirked an eyebrow at Harry.

“Done sulking?” he asked.

A mischievous sort of smirk curled around his lips.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t sulk, although if you keep―”

Harry paused and trailed off. He’d been about to teasingly threaten to put Draco over his knee and spank him, but something prevented him from saying the actual words out loud.

Annoyed, he cursed himself.

“Yes, if I keep what?” Draco asked.

His silvery-grey eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Harry shook his head.

“Never mind. You cooked?”

Draco held his gaze for several seconds, and Harry noted a subtle, almost minute, change about his demeanour. He straightened up a little, and although he remained all smiles, there was a faint air of seriousness about him. It seemed like he’d sensed that Harry wasn’t ready to have _that_ particular conversation, at least not on an empty stomach.

“I did. Chilli Con Carne, vegetarian but I promise you’ll love it.”

Harry smiled.

“I love everything you cook,” he said.

He walked up to Draco, wound his arms around Draco’s waist and captured his lips in a soft and gentle kiss. It was unhurried and loving; a way for them both to physically connect with each other.

“I love you.”

Upon pulling away, Harry murmured the words against Draco’s lips and felt them curl upwards and into a content smile.

“Love you too. Come, sit, let’s eat. You’ve got to be famished.”

At Draco’s invitation, Harry’s stomach rumbled again, and he hastily took his seat, silently admiring the bowl of fresh shredded lettuce with salsa next to his plate.

Draco set his mug of coffee down on a coaster beside his own plate, then heaped a large portion of long, slender-grained, fragrant Basmati rice onto his plate, followed by an even larger helping of meatless Chilli Con Carne.

There were brown lentils and kidney beans, and peppers, onions, sweet corn and tomatoes and Harry could barely wait to pick up his fork and start eating.

Draco seemed to sense his urgency, and taking a seat across from him, he filled his own plate and smiled.

“They say the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Bon Appétit.”

Harry chuckled softly and picked up his knife and fork.

“Do they now?”

Draco nodded.

“They absolutely do.”

“I was under the impression you’d already successfully stolen my heart.”

Draco smirked.

“Crude, Potter. I do not steal. I just borrowed it with no intention of ever giving it back.”

Harry brought a forkful of rice and chilli con carne to his lips and chuckled.

“You Slytherins, eloquent as ever, aren’t you?”

Draco shrugged.

“Living in the dungeons of Hogwarts for seven years has got to come with some sort of advantage.”

Highly amused and with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, Harry sampled his first bite of Draco’s homecooked meal. His taste buds exploded with the onslaught of flavours and the intense aroma of the meal, and he briefly closed his eyes and hummed his approval.

“Sir is pleased, I take?”

Harry opened his eyes, chewed his food and nodded.

He swallowed and put his knife down. Reaching across the table, Harry placed his hand on top of Draco’s; he squeezed it firmly.

“I have to admit; recently I’ve been having the one or other odd moment where I found myself wondering whether all this is real or whether I’ve been making this all up in my head.”

Draco smiled.

His expression was soft, and his bright silvery-grey eyes shone with unadulterated love.

“Now you know how I feel every time to make me come undone.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he squeezed Draco’s hand again.

“You are perfect, my little prince.”

Draco averted his gaze, and a faint flush coloured his cheeks, giving them a beautiful pink hue.

“Objection,” he whispered, “nobody is perfect.”

Harry shrugged.

“Let me believe that you are, my love.”

Draco lifted his head again, and their eyes met.

His blush had faded away again but, in its place, his eyes had a roguish sort of shine to them.

“Does that mean you’ll never ever punish me again, _Sir_?”

It was very clearly a bait, and trying his hardest not to smirk, Harry held Draco’s gaze for the longest time, then clicked his tongue.

“Being perfect and behaving perfectly are two different things altogether, my little prince.”

Draco chuckled softly.

“The prosecutor in me wants to argue with you until I win my case,” he said.

Harry laughed.

He ate another forkful of his late lunch and replied after he’d swallowed every last bite.

“I’m always open to listening to a good argument.”

Draco grinned.

“As alluring as that thought is, considering that you know exactly how to press my buttons, I am of the opinion that with you, I should avoid any and all temptation.”

Harry winked.

“Ah, but can you resist it?”

Draco groaned.

“No,” he said.

“Thought so.”

“Now who’s being the perfect Slytherin?”

Harry shrugged.

“I’ve never denied my predisposition towards being completely and utterly sly.”

Draco shifted in an attempt to cover up a small but pronounced shiver, but Harry noticed it anyway. He’d spent too many years watching Draco not to notice absolutely everything about the man.

“You are a dangerous man, Harry Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“Only when challenged― In the wrong sort of way by the wrong sort of people.”

Draco held his gaze for a moment or two, then smiled.

“To get on your wrong side would be disastrous indeed,” he said.

Harry nodded.

“I’m quite certain you never will.”

Draco inclined his head in agreement.

“Well, yes. While I do have a proclivity for ropes, restraints and a bit of spanking here and there, I don’t particularly have a death wish.”

Harry smirked.

“Require any assistance with those proclivities?”

Draco laughed.

“Always, Sir.”

A thrill of excitement washed over Harry, and it directly counteracted the remaining bit of melancholy and self-doubt that still plagued him. He let his enthusiasm consume all the negativity and silently basked in the knowledge that even though it was usually him who caught Draco when he was about to fall, Draco was very much capable of doing the same for him. The fact that Draco loved him unconditionally and regardless of whatever nonsense his own head was trying to get him to believe as the truth resulted in his heart skipping a beat and the butterflies in his stomach roared to life. They fluttered madly around their pit, making their exhilaration perfectly clear.

They finished their meal in silence, and by the time, Harry had cleared his plate and finished his salad, he wasn’t just wholly stuffed but had also managed to convince himself that he’d just fallen in love with Draco all over again. Part of him felt tempted to share that discovery with Draco, but a slightly more prominent part of him decided to keep his thoughts to himself and revel in the flood of warmth that filled and expanded his chest. His mind drifted to a particular small box, which contained a custom-made gift for Draco. He’d hidden it in their playroom on the fourth floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and glancing at Draco’s hands, he visualised the beautiful item in his mind. Harry felt a soft smile curl around the edges of his mouth. He suddenly, and rather fervently, wished that said box was in his possession. This moment seemed perfectly suited to put his suggestion to Draco, and even though the idea also terrified him a little, he couldn’t see Draco turning him down.

A faint and elegant pop announced the arrival of one of the Manor’s house elves and Harry abandoned his train of thought in favour of saying hello to Libby.

She flashed him a big grin.

“Master Potter, Sir,” she said, then turned to Draco.

“Master Malfoy, Sir, the Mistress has asked Libby to inform you that you mustn’t scare the kitchen staff.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“All I did was cook.”

Libby shrieked and stumbled backwards.

“Master Malfoy, Sir!” she said, thoroughly outraged.

“With all due respect, Master Malfoy, but that is hardly one of your duties.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the little elf.

A wicked sort of half-smirk curled around the left side of his mouth.

“With all due respect, dearest Libby, and you may convey this message to your Mistress, this place is still my home, and if I wish to take over the kitchen and cook a meal for my partner, I will bloody well do so, and not even an army of house elves getting their ears in a twist about it is going to stop me from doing so.”

Harry pressed his lips tightly together to stop himself from laughing.

Libby looked even more outraged. She stomped her little foot and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Master Malfoy is most disagreeable.”

Draco huffed out a breath of air. He mumbled his next words so quietly that only Harry could hear them clearly and only because he was straining his ears.

“I wonder who’s fault that might be.”

Libby shot Draco a defiant glare, then, in a fit of pique, she waved her hand and disappeared together with both their empty plates, bowls, and dirty cutlery. She was sensible enough not to vanish the French Press and Harry’s mug but disappeared with Draco’s, which let him fuming.

“That sly little―”

Harry clicked his tongue.

“She loves you really.”

“She’s got a funny way of showing her affection.”

Harry burst out laughing.

It took him a minute or two until he managed to calm himself and reaching for his coffee mug, he took several sips.

“I can’t help but wonder whether she learnt that sort of behaviour from you, my love.”

Draco glowered darkly.

“Thin ice, Potter, thin ice.”

Harry chuckled.

“That’s what strengthening charms are for. I’m sure you heard of them?”

Draco continued to glower at him.

After a minute, he rose from his chair and attempted to stalk off in a strop, but Harry caught his wrist before he could do so. He pushed his chair back and pulling Draco into his lap, he wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and squeezed, restraining him in place.

Draco struggled for a moment or two but squealed when Harry poked his side, causing him to twist away to avoid being tickled. He attempted another death glare, but Harry simply tickled him again.

“Ah! Potter! Stop it!”

Harry laughed.

“Not a chance. However, if you ask nicely, I’ll give you a head start.”

“Fuck you,” Draco growled.

Harry poked his side again.

“You wish, my sweet little prince, you wish,” he said and holding Draco’s gaze, he dared him to disagree.

Draco did not.

He did, however, squirm and tried to get away.

Harry kept a firm hold on him and leaning back, he watched, bemused, as Draco tried with all his might, to free himself.

He didn’t manage.

With a sly grin, Harry suddenly released him and toppling off his lap, Draco landed in a heap on the floor.

He thumped the ground and glared up at him.

“You will pay for this, Potter.”

Harry chuckled.

“If you dare,” he said with a shrug.

He rose to his feet, and Draco instantly scrambled off the ground and backed away.

Harry followed him with a devious grin.

“I’ll get you anyway,” he threatened, then lunged forward.

Draco shrieked, turned on his socked heel and ran out of his bedroom.

Harry momentarily considered the state of his attire, then shrugged and decided that he didn’t give a fuck. He made sure that the knot at the front of his bathrobe was still securely fastened, kicked off his slippers and followed Draco. He chased him through Draco’s drawing-room, down the broad flight of stairs and along the gallery.

On the second floor and halfway down another long corridor, he almost caught Draco, but Draco managed to slip through his grasp at the very last second.

He cackled with glee, then bound down another flight of stairs.

Harry followed, and they chased each other around the Manor’s spacious entrance hall, until Draco veered off to the left, pushed a massive set of double doors open and leapt through the narrow gap into the ballroom.

There he skidded on his socked feet, sliding almost all the way to the centre of the room and realising that Harry now had a distinct advantage, he cursed out loud, and tried his best to run but found himself pinned to the ground less than two minutes later.

Rather triumphantly straddling Draco’s hips, Harry grabbed his wrists, pressed them against the smooth parquet flooring underneath them, and leant forward.

“I told you that I’d get you. I never lie, Malfoy, you should know that.”

Draco thrashed beneath him and tried to buck his hips to throw him off but remained unsuccessful.

“Such a wilful little pet, whatever will I do with you now that I’ve got you?”

Harry lowered his voice to a husky drawl, and despite looking utterly cross, Draco reluctantly stopped writhing quite as much.

“Much better. I do rather dislike naughty pets. They make me want to do all sorts of wicked things to them.”

Draco’s breathing hitched up a notch, and his silvery-grey eyes darkened several shades.

“I’m not naughty,” he whispered, “you started it.”

Harry clicked his tongue.

“I did not,” he said.

Shifting his weight, he used one hand to continue to keep Draco’s wrists pinned to the ground. He brought his other hand up to Draco’s face, moved a stray strand of his hair out of the way, then ran the tip of his index finger along the side of Draco’s face, over his flushed cheek and along his jawline. He lingered in the centre of Draco’s chin, then pressed his fingers against Draco’s bottom lip and pulled it down.

Draco opened his mouth a little and let out a shaky breath of air.

Harry lowered his head until his lips were almost close enough to brush against Draco’s.

“You’re pretty like this,” he murmured.

A small whimper escaped Draco’s throat, and he blinked, then swallowed hard.

“Harry.”

Harry smiled.

“Yes, pet?”

“I―”

Draco’s voice broke, and he faltered. A shiver surged through him, and Harry felt it in his own hips.

His entire body thrummed with it, and he briefly pressed his lips together.

Draco cleared his throat.

He blushed harder, and his cheeks turned crimson-red.

Harry licked his lips.

He couldn’t help but imagine a different set of cheeks in that same colour.

Draco spoke again.

“Harry.”

Harry blinked.

“Do it,” Draco whispered.

“What you’re thinking about right now, do it, Harry. You know you want to. You know I want you to. Please, do it.”

Harry swallowed hard.

The palm of his hand started to itch, and he instinctively curled his fingers and dug his nails into his skin.

“Do it, Harry.”

Draco’s encouragement only served to ignite his burning desire.

The itch in his palm intensified and clenching his fingers tightly together; Harry stared deeply into Draco’s eyes. He lost himself in the intense desire he saw burning in those smouldering smoky orbs and humming softly, he felt a surge of raw need take him by force.

He shuddered at the intensity of it all and cupping Draco’s cheek; he pressed his thumb against Draco’s lips.

Draco kissed it.

“Please,” he begged.

Harry felt heady with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a week. Something fierce roared to life deep inside of him and unable to resist just how right it felt, he tightened his grip on Draco’s wrist and apparated them both back upstairs to Draco’s room.

They landed on top of Draco’s unmade bed, and the first thing Harry did was to capture Draco’s lips in a fiercely possessive kiss. He plunged his tongue deep into Draco’s mouth, swirled it around its counterpart and explored every inch of that hot wet cavern he loved so much.

They kissed until they’d both run out of breath and kept on kissing until Harry could no longer withstand the burning ache in his lungs. He broke away and gulping down a large lungful of air, he stared at Draco, allowing himself to drown in his eyes.

He tried to find something in those silvery-grey orbs, a tiny sign that what he was about to do was wrong, that it wasn’t what Draco wanted, that he did it just for him, but he found nothing. Draco’s eyes were full to the brim with love and desire and trust. There was nothing else: no fear, no hesitancy, nothing.

Draco whispered a single word into the small space between both their faces, unprompted providing him with a verbal confirmation.

“Green.”

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest, beating so fast and so hard that he was sure that it was about to burst through his ribcage.

He held Draco’s gaze for another minute or two, then slowly moved away, setting Draco free.

Draco gracefully moved off the bed and shuffling into a sitting position, Harry lowered his feet onto the ground and fixed his bathrobe, covering himself properly with it.

He watched, mesmerised, as Draco slowly pulled his white woollen jumper over his head and discarded it onto the bed. He then lifted his arms high above his head, crossed them at the wrists and stood perfectly still.

Harry let his eyes trail over Draco’s naked torso, drinking in the side of him, then hooked a single finger into one of the belt loops of Draco’s trousers, and pulled him closer. Draco came willingly, responding beautifully to his silent command, and Harry popping the top button, Harry slowly dragged the zipper down.

Draco’s trousers fell open and exposed the scar that ran across his abdomen.

Harry traced it with a single finger, then leant close to kiss it.

In response, Draco let out a breathy moan.

One more tender kiss, then Harry slowly dragged Draco’s trousers off his hips and smiled when he noticed that Draco hadn’t bothered with underwear.

_Sneaky Slytherin_, he thought to himself but couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Draco for his underhanded tactics.

He dragged the trousers all the way down, and without breaking eye contact, Draco stepped out of them and kicked them to the side.

Harry inhaled deeply, held his breath for several seconds, then ran his fingers along the outside of Draco’s left thigh. The milky skin was soft to the touch and entirely unmarred. Harry’s eyes caught sight of the bruises he’d left behind on Draco’s hips and traced them ever so gently, then applied a tiny bit of pressure.

Draco inhaled sharply, but his expression remained the same.

“Green,” he reassured.

Harry smiled.

He continued to caress every inch of skin he could comfortably reach with teasing feather-light touches, but since he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Draco for even just a second, his attention remained on Draco’s face.

Draco smiled softly, faintly.

“Yes,” he whispered, “I consent.”

Harry lost himself in the thrill of those words. They thrummed through his body, setting it on fire, and mesmerised by the beauty and intimacy of the moment, he curled his fingers around Draco’s wrist and pulled him closer.

Draco stepped forward willingly.

There was still not the slightest hint of hesitancy in his eyes and Harry watched, with the greatest admiration, and a chest burning with love, as Draco moved, kneeled beside him, then draped himself all over his thighs, exposing his perfect, milky-white behind to him.

Harry swallowed hard.

He trailed his fingers over Draco’s delicate skin, teasing it with only his fingertips.

Draco hummed softly against his leg, and the sound vibrated through Harry, fuelling his desire, steadily urging him on.

He continued to tease every inch of Draco’s arse and the back of his thighs with his fingertips and delighted in all the different tiny sounds Draco made. They were heaven on earth to listen to, and Harry drowned in them. He was utterly lost in the moment, thoroughly enjoying the gift Draco had just given him.

A small part of him tried to tell him that this was wrong, that he couldn’t possibly do this to the person he loved, that it was wrong to want to hurt Draco, but he something else made it entirely impossible for him to actually listen to that nagging voice of doubt inside his head.

It was Draco, talking to him.

His voice was soft with that sweet submissive undertone; Harry loved so much.

There wasn’t a trace of sass, not an ounce of sarcasm. There was no bite, no wit, no taunting. This was a side of Draco only he got to see, and Harry lost himself even further in the web Draco had spun around him. There was drowning, and then there was this. Essentially, both were the same, yet they were fundamentally different, in a way, Harry, at this point in time, couldn’t explain.

Right this moment, all he could do was feel and listen to Draco.

“I’m ready, Sir.”

Draco’s voice pulled him under, dragged him deeper, and lost in his trance, Harry slowly lifted his hand, flexed his fingers, then smacked Draco’s left arse cheek hard.

The itch in the palm of his hand mingled with the burn of the stinging blow he’d just delivered, and a shudder of epic proportions surged through Harry. He felt his entire body tremor and the intensity of it and was about to freak the hell out, push Draco off his thighs, shove him away and run when Draco’s voice reverberated around their tiny little bubble.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Another shudder surged through Harry and unable to resist his own desires, he lifted his hand up and brought it down on Draco’s right arse cheek.

Draco moaned, arched his back ever so slightly and thanked him again.

Harry’s heart thumped even harder.

He felt heady with desire and was breathless.

He sucked in as much air as his lungs could take, traced the two faint markings on Draco’s arse, then landed another blow, and another, and a fifth.

Draco, without fail, thanked him for each strike.

His voice was steady and firm. There wasn’t even the fainted crack to it.

Harry struck his little prince a sixth time, and a seventh.

He paused for a moment, admired his handiwork, caressed it with an intimate sort of tenderness, and revelled in the fact that Draco continued to thank him. His heart felt like he was about ready to explode with all the love he felt for Draco and overwhelmed by the intensity of it all; he heaved out a sob.

Draco lifted his head and looked at him with his beautiful silvery-grey eyes. They still sparkled with love and affection and trust and desire.

Harry’s chest constricted.

He fought to breathe, and another gut-wrenching sob found its way to freedom.

Draco effortlessly slid off his thighs, and the moment he’d moved off, Harry slipped off the bed and sat on the floor with his back pressed up against the side of the bed. He watched, unable to speak, as Draco pushed his legs apart, kneeled between them and took his hands, then tenderly peppered his palm with tiny kisses.

Harry’s mouth fell open, and a third sob tore through him.

With this one came the tears.

The burst from his eyes like waterfalls and sobbing heavily, he cried out.

Draco crawled as close as he possibly could, wrapped his arms around his neck and snuggled into him. To Harry, it felt like Draco was trying to disappear inside of him, and that suited him just fine. He buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck and hugging Draco tightly against his own body; he cried bitter tears.

“It’s OK, Harry, I’ve got you, let it all out, it’s OK. I’m here for you, always. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

Draco babbled a bunch of reassurance nonsense, ran his fingers through his hair and Harry cried until he no longer had the strength to do so. He slowly ran out of tears and blinking; he tightened his hold on Draco and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.

“I fucking love you, Draco Malfoy,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

“And I you, Harry Potter. I’m yours always. Don’t you ever forget that. I pledge my body to you; it’s yours to do with as you please. Remember, I trust you, and I’ve put my life in your hands more than once. I’ll do it again in a heartbeat. I’m not afraid of what we do, I love it, and I love you. You’ve done me no harm, not ever.”

Harry felt long, smooth fingers slide along his neck, felt a single finger curl itself underneath the band that secured his dragon pendant around his neck.

Draco tugged gently.

“She would never let you go too far. You would never go too far. I know you, Harry Potter, I know you better than you know yourself.”

Harry moved his hands and cupping Draco’s face; he moved his head so that he could look at Draco.

He managed a weak smile.

Draco mirrored it.

“What was it?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

Harry closed his eyes, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“The cane,” he murmured, with his eyes still firmly shut.

“Look at me, Harry Potter.”

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at Draco’s face. He tried to find something in his expression, something that told him he’d gone too far during their roleplay, that he’d done something to put Draco off ever wanting to play again, but he found nothing. All he saw was love. Pure, unadulterated love. And trust. A bottomless pit of trust.

A fresh wave of tears rolled down his cheek, and he huffed out an awkward chuckle.

“I feel pathetic,” he said.

Draco arched an eyebrow at him.

“For crying?”

Harry nodded.

Draco smiled.

“I lost count of how many times I’ve cried in your arms over the last year, Harry. I think you owe me this one. It’s only fair that I get to see the rough side of this emerald every once in a while, don’t you think?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“I suppose so.”

Draco pulled his face away; then Harry felt him cup his own face.

“You didn’t go too far. The cane scared me, but as I told you before, I trust you. I knew you’d never use it on me. I knew, deep down, that it was a ploy. That scene was fucking intense, and I loved every bloody second of it, get that into your thick skull, Harry James Potter. And while you’re at it, you’re allowed to be weak; you’re allowed to hand me the reins every once in a while. I like taking care of you; I like keeping you safe just as much as you like keeping me safe.”

Harry smiled.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco grinned.

“I knew that when we were eleven. Took you a bit longer to figure it out, didn’t it? Oh well, we can’t all be Slytherins, can we? Some of us end up being Gryffindorks.”

“Oi, Malfoy, watch it!”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Or what?”

Harry pressed his lips together and considered his answer for a moment. He searched his head for that nagging self-doubt that had plagued him for the last week but found none. Satisfied that he, with Draco’s help, had managed to work through his drop, Harry decided to dip his toes into the water.

“Or I’ll deliver another seven strikes.”

Draco laughed.

He got to his feet and pulled him up too.

“That’s not going to discourage me from sassing until your palms itch.”

Harry sneaked an arm around Draco’s waist and pulled him close.

“Want to know a little secret?”

Draco nodded.

“They still itch.”

Draco grinned.

“Let’s go have a shower and go for a walk; you can spank me some more tonight.”

“Really?”

Draco laughed.

“Sure. Providing you’re not too busy with the surprise I’ve planned for you?”

Harry arched an eyebrow, expressing both curiosity and interest.

“Surprise?”

Draco nodded.

“Yep, but I’m not telling so don’t even bother asking. Come on; I’ll join you in the shower.”

Harry smiled.

“Now that sounds like a suggestion I can’t turn down,” he said and taking his bathrobe off, he tossed it onto the bed and followed Draco into the bathroom.

* * *

* * *


	30. The Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I refuse to be held accountable for how this chapter progressed but I can definitely tell you whom I blame for all of it. *grin*
> 
> Do enjoy.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

A blurry dishevelled mop of sparkling turquoise hair followed the high-pitched and decidedly overexcited screech that rang in Harry’s ears. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Draco pulled his hand away and had just about enough time to spread his arms wide before Teddy collided into him.

Staggering, Harry wrapped his arms around his godson and lifted him off the ground. He felt Draco’s hand at the small of his back, steadying him a little, then Teddy slung his arms around his neck and squeezed so tightly that it momentarily knocked all the air from Harry’s lungs.

“Harry, I missed you!”

Teddy’s voice was muffled as he was speaking directly into the crook of Harry’s neck, but since his mouth was only inches away from Harry’s ear, he had no problem understanding his godson.

“I missed you too, little man,” Harry said.

He turned his head sideways and looked at Draco, who winked conspicuously. A rather prominent smirk danced around the corners of his mouth.

“Surprise,” he said, “family cures all ails, Teddy especially.”

Harry’s chest swelled and flooded with love. His heart skipped a beat and temporarily rendered speechless, he blinked and simply held Draco’s gaze.

It took him a good thirty seconds, during which Teddy began to wriggle in his arms, demanding to be set down. Harry obliged, then wrapped one arm around Draco, and conscious of his godson standing right in front of him, he resisted the urge to snog Draco senseless.

Instead, he placed a soft but lingering kiss on Draco’s cheek, pulled back, and smiled.

“I thought you were opposed to keeping secrets from me.”

Draco shrugged.

“I decided to make an exception just this once,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his silvery-grey eyes.

Harry chuckled, then distracted by Teddy grasping both his hands and squeezing them firmly, he looked down at his godson, whose hair was now jet-black and just as messy as his own.

“Harry,” he said.

“Yes, Teddy?”

“I’m so happy to see you.”

Smiling, Harry pulled his large hands out of Teddy’s smaller ones, and crouching down in front of his godson, he cupped his face and held it between his hands.

“I’m happy to see you too,” he said.

Teddy flashed him a grin.

“Uncle D sent an owl yesterday asking if I wanted to come over to visit you both at Malfoy Manor.”

Harry laughed.

“Let me guess, and you, of course, bugged Nana Tonks until she gave in.”

Teddy looked positively affronted.

“I did no such thing. I just asked nicely.”

“And how many times did you ask Nana Tonks?” Draco asked.

With a chuckle, Harry got back to his feet.

“Yep, I’d like to know that too,” he said.

Teddy shrugged.

He looked a little uncomfortable, and for a moment, his hair turned a strange mixture of both, platinum-blond and jet-black.

“Two or three times,” he said, not meeting either Harry’s or Draco’s eye.

Harry laughed and beside him, Draco snorted with amusement.

“More like twenty or thirty times,” he said, “poor Nana Tonks.”

Teddy placed his hands on his hips and glared at them both.

“Hey! Nana Tonks loves me.”

Harry grinned.

He reached out to ruffle Teddy’s hair which turned turquoise underneath his touch, then white-blond when he withdrew his hand.

“We all love you, Teddy.”

Teddy smiled happily.

“Does that mean I can have hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows?”

Beside him, Draco coughed into his hand.

“Slytherin,” he said, the word somewhat muffled by his hand but not unclear enough that Harry couldn’t hear it.

He turned his head sideways and arched an eyebrow at Draco.

“You wish,” he said, “He’ll get sorted into Gryffindor, just you wait, Draco Malfoy, you’ll see.”

Draco laughed.

“Potter, I bet you all the contents of every single Malfoy vault that this boy is not going to end up in Gryffindor.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’ve known him since he was born, I think I can tell.”

Draco scoffed, then defiantly held his gaze.

“He’s family.”

The hint of mockery in his eyes ignited Harry’s desire to discipline him, and what Draco had just said only served to egg him on even more. To his delight though, this time, those feelings felt right, and he knew at once that he’d gotten his mojo back. Harry revelled in the mood for a moment, letting it consume him. A very familiar itch in the palm of his right hand caused him to curl and flex his fingers. He shoved his hand into one of the pockets of his jeans and pressed it firmly against the side of his thigh, then breathed deeply and controlled his urge. Now was neither the time nor the place to think about slowly turning the pale milky skin of Draco’s taut arse red.

For a moment, it seemed like Draco had sensed the direction his thoughts had taken and Harry delighted in the way he shifted from one foot to the other underneath his piercing gaze, then averted his eyes and lowered his head just enough to let Harry know who was in charge.

Harry’s heart skipped another beat, and he watched, mesmerised, and with the highest respect, how Draco moved his hands behind his back, submitting even more. To the untrained eye, neither of these actions meant anything, but to Harry, they meant everything. They were a silent confirmation of the dynamics of their relationship, and they meant as much to him as the corniest declaration of love. In fact, it was a declaration of love because Draco never lowered his gaze or placed his hands behind his back for anyone else. These gestures were reserved for him and him alone.

A rather insistent tug on the hem of his jacket pulled Harry out of his trance and resolutely banishing any further thoughts about dominating Draco and how beautiful he considered his submission to be, he turned his attention back to his godson.

“What about my hot chocolate?”

Before Harry could answer, Draco laughed beside him and pulling one arm out from behind his back, he wrapped it around Teddy.

“Come on, lets head inside and I’ll see what we can do about that hot chocolate you want so badly.”

“Yay!”

Harry watched, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, as Draco took Teddy’s hand, and they both headed over to the grand staircase that led to the Manor’s elaborate terrace. They each took two steps at a time, with Draco making use of his long legs. In Teddy’s case, it was more the excitement that had him bounding up the steps beside Draco. Harry’s chest filled with more love than he thought he could take and for a moment, he struggled to fill his lungs with an adequate amount of oxygen to sustain all of his bodily functions.

There was just something about watching the man he loved with the ferocity of a Fiendfyre and the boy; he’d helped to raise, walk alongside each other while one excitedly babbled to the other. Draco listened to Teddy and expressed genuine interest in his cousin’s mad tale about his last day of school and how Nana Tonks had taken him to Diagon Alley afterwards to indulge in a wizarding version of the traditional afternoon tea.

Teddy’s descriptions of all the sweets Nana Tonks had ordered along with fresh and hot pumpkin juice for him and strong black tea for her had Harry’s mouth-watering, and following his boyfriend and his godson up the grand staircase, he found himself craving a slice of treacle tart and a large mug of steaming hot black coffee.

Following his breakthrough, he and Draco had shared the longest shower in history, although that was mainly because he hadn’t been able to stop himself from kissing Draco before getting him to stand facing the wall with his palms pressed up against the wet marble tiles. He’d then knelt behind Draco and rimmed him until Draco had collapsed in a boneless, quivering heap on the shower floor, unable to remain upright any longer.

Harry licked his lips at the memory of sinking his teeth deeply into Draco’s neck and producing a dark-purple bruise. He’d also left a set of bite marks behind. The rather prominent love bite was hidden beneath Draco’s high collar and the grey cashmere scarf he wore around his neck, but Harry didn’t need to see it imagine it. The memory of how he’d enticed Draco to wank for his own viewing pleasure while he held him in his arms and kissed every inch of pale wet skin, he could comfortably reach, had Harry lick his lips again.

He hastily shook his head and pushed the memory aside. There would be more time for more of those shenanigans later; Harry was quite sure of that.

For now, he abandoned any and all ideas of ravishing Draco, and censored his thoughts, reminding himself of the fact that his godson had come to visit. He very much wanted to spent a proper afternoon with Teddy and fully enjoy his godson’s company. He quickened his pace and leaping up the last set of stairs; Harry caught up with Draco and Teddy just as Draco reached out and pushed the door to his mother’s parlour open.

Once inside, Harry stopped for a while and took in the scene that presented itself to him. Narcissa and Andromeda were sharing a chaise, and although there was a bit of a gap between them, they were amicably chatting over a book, Narcissa held in her hands. Harry was well aware of the fact that Andromeda and Narcissa were making every effort to build bridges and work out their past issues, but to see them together like this, conversing and sharing stories, took a moment to absorb.

Harry gently let the door close behind him, and as both Andromeda and Narcissa turned around, he smiled.

“Ladies,” he said.

Andromeda rose to her feet at once but waited for him to properly step into the room before she engulfed him in a hug. Harry inhaled her familiar scent and lingered in her embrace for a while, then pulled back.

“How are you, Andy?”

Andromeda flashed him a positively sly grin.

“Marvellous now that I can indulge in a bit of conversation for grownups and hopefully also a gin and tonic.”

She paused and turned her head to look at her sister.

“Cissy?” she asked.

Narcissa smiled and nodded.

“Of course,” she said and rose to her feet, but made no move to head over to her own private bar, “unless you’d rather prefer a Sherry? I managed to get my hands on a rather special one. It’s complex, rich, nutty, smells like grand-aunt Cassiopeia’s musky old furniture and sweet as dried raisins―”

Andromeda raised her hand to interrupt her sister.

“Say no more,” she said, “just pour me a glass already.”

Narcissa smiled, and with a curt nod, she headed over to her minibar on the far side of her parlour.

Harry followed her with his gaze, and he smirked when he caught Draco’s overly-pronounced eyeroll. With a slight nod of his head, he agreed. While he did occasionally enjoy a tumbler glass of well-aged Ogden's Old, he’d never been able to understand the allure of sherry. In his opinion, it was too sweet, too thick and left behind a weird taste; Harry simply couldn’t befriend. He fervently hoped that Narcissa wasn’t about to offer him or Draco a glass but before she could, Libby, the house-elf, thankfully appeared in the parlour.

“Master Malfoy called,” she said with palpable pique, a clear sign that she still hadn’t forgiven Draco for the way he’d spoken to her earlier.

Harry found her to be rather hilarious.

She was neither disrespectful nor outright rude to her Master, but she most definitely had a way of being sassy with Draco and she did it in a way that Harry knew rubbed Draco up the wrong way. To make matters worse, she made a point of being extra polite to him whenever they both stayed at the Manor, and Harry knew for a fact that this really irked Draco. However, it was during those exchanges that Draco’s pureblood upbringing really shone through for during each and every conversation he had with Libby; he was entirely tactful and overly polite.

Harry knew him well enough to know that he was fuming on the inside, but Draco never once showed his true feelings. He practically allowed Libby to get away with murder and it only fuelled Harry’s conviction that the house-elf had learnt to copy Draco’s sass and she did it perfectly too.

“Little Master Teddy would like some hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.”

The tone of Draco’s voice made it absolutely clear that he wasn’t asking Libby but telling her.

Her long ears twitched, but she inclined her head.

“Certainly, Master Malfoy, Sir,” she said, then turned to face Harry.

“Master Potter would like some coffee, yes?” she asked, looking at him with her big round eyes.

Harry nodded.

“Yes, Libby, that be nice.”

“It is my pleasure, Master Potter, Sir.”

“And some for Draco too, please,” Harry added.

Libby blinked.

She glanced at Draco, then bowed to Harry.

As she did, her nose nearly touched the floor.

“As Master Potter wishes,” she said as she straightened up again, then disappeared with a snap of her long, bony fingers.

Draco huffed out a breath of air and crossed his arms over his chest in clear annoyance.

Harry chuckled, bemused.

He walked up to Draco and placed a hand around his waist, squeezing his hip affectionately.

His other hand landed on Teddy’s shoulder, which he squeezed too.

Teddy looked up at him, and his hair once again changed in colour, flickering between an exact copy of Draco’s platinum-blond hair and his own jet-black unruly mop.

“Harry.”

Teddy’s most serious expression was endearing, and Harry smiled.

“Yes, Teddy,” he said.

“I think you look a bit like Nana Tonks cousin, Sirius, with that beard,” Teddy said.

Harry laughed.

Beside him, Draco coughed, and a sideways glance told Harry that his little prince was blushing a bit. He made quite a show of stroking his neatly-trimmed stubble and grinned down at his godson, who blinked.

His hair turned turquoise again, though a quite prominent strand of white-blond stubbornly remained.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked.

Teddy shrugged.

“Looks alright,” he said, then turned to look at Draco.

“Uncle D, doesn’t that scratch when Harry kisses you?”

The tips of Draco’s ears pinked instantly, and he hastily brought his hand up to cover half of his face, sputtering and coughing into his palm.

“I’ll just check with the kitchen elves if we have some dessert to go with coffee.”

Draco excused himself and fled the room before Harry could stop him. Harry only barely to contain his amusement and he made a mental note to mercilessly tease Draco over his beard fetish later tonight and any other chance he got.

The afternoon past in a blur with Harry spending most of his time chasing Teddy around the ground floor of the Manor, while his godson squealed and zigzagged through the entrance hall, trying his best to evade his grasp. For the most part, Harry purposefully let him get away, but occasionally he did use his duelling skills to his advantages and lunging forward, he grabbed Teddy and threw him over his shoulder.

This generally resulted in Teddy’s squeals increasing in volume, and for a while, Harry was worried that Narcissa might object to the ruckus, but every time he caught her glancing in Teddy’s reaction, a fond smile curled around the corners of her mouth. She’d watch him for a while, then turn her attention back to her conversation with Andromeda.

At some point, the two of them excused themselves and went for a short walk around the grounds before it was time for dinner and Draco invited both Teddy and him to join him in the ballroom. As they entered, Draco drew his wand and flicked it at the extravagant chandeliers above their head.

They instantly came to life and flooded the entire room with a soft golden light.

Teddy, who’d long since abandoned his shoes, skidded over the smooth parquet floor and when Draco flicked his wand again, and soft, classical music drifted through the air, Harry at once felt the urge to dance with his little prince.

He knew, from his first visit to the Manor, that the room was charmed to gently entice and persuade guests to dance and instead of resisting the magic-induced impulse, he gave in to it.

Walking up to Draco, he reached for his wrist, pulled him close and snaked his other arm around Draco’s lithe waist.

“Dance with me, little prince.”

Harry whispered the words so quietly that only Draco could hear them. He felt Draco melt into his embrace and pressed his bearded cheek against Draco’s smooth one.

“Yes, Sir.”

Draco breathed his response directly into his ear, and Harry shivered a little.

He began to gently sway them both back and forth, and when, after a few minutes, Teddy hugged them both, Harry neither pulled away nor felt embarrassed about the fact that he was affectionate with his boyfriend in front of his godson. Instead, Harry placed his hand between Teddy’s shoulder blade and included him in the dance. A moment later, Draco moved his hand to meet his and their laced their fingers together then continued dancing.

Some time into their slow dance, the music picked up and the warm, rounded and bright sound of a saxophone filled the ballroom. It was soft, smooth, pleasant, and accompanied by the rhythmic beat of drums. Encouraged by the jazzy feel of the music, Harry tightened his hold around Draco’s wrist and spun him around the room, then picked Teddy up and lifting him into his arms, he told him to firmly wrap his legs around his torso.

Teddy did just that, squeezing his waist tightly with his legs, and supporting his lower back, Harry told Teddy to stop wrapping his arms around his neck and lean back. His godson hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly obeyed. The moment he did, Harry spun him around the room and delighted in the crystal-clear squeal that flew from Teddy’s lips as he flew around the room. Neither letting go of his godson nor loosening his grasp on Draco’s wrist; Harry continued to dance with both of them at the same time and until all three of them were thoroughly dizzy.

They collapsed in a heaped mess in the centre of the ballroom, and laughing freely and without restraint, Harry pulled Draco close and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

Teddy giggled between them and after kissing Draco, Harry held his godson’s face between his hands and kissed his forehead. Teddy squealed and wriggled, ducking away from the excessive amount of affection he was getting.

Harry ruffled his hair and its colour changed to jet-black beneath his touch, then turned turquoise again. That one prominent platinum-blond strand stubbornly remained.

“You love him,” Teddy said, matter-of-factly, pointing at Draco.

Harry nodded.

“I love you too,” he said.

Teddy grinned.

“Bet you love Uncle D more.”

Harry laughed.

“Nah, I just love him differently.”

Teddy frowned at him, and for a moment, Harry was convinced that his godson was going to demand an explanation, but he didn’t. Instead, Teddy surprised him with something else altogether.

“Uncle Charlie said he'd buy me my first broom if I convince you to propose to Uncle D.”

Harry snorted with laughter and glanced at Draco; whose cheeks had turned an adorable shade of dark pink.”

“Well, Teddy, if it’s a broom we’re talking about, I’ve got to do it, don’t I?” he said, deliberately teasing Draco, whose cheeks coloured even further until they were crimson red.

This time, his blush had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had a praise kink. It was pure embarrassment, and a part of Harry basked in it, but he was also conscious of the fact that pushing Draco too far would result in him storming off in a huff.

“You absolutely have to, Harry.”

Teddy’s response to his question momentarily distracted Harry, and he looked away from Draco.

“You know what, I think you’re right, Teddy, I should just do it.”

Teddy nodded vigorously, and Harry heard Draco gasp beside him.

He turned to look at Draco.

His flush had faded a little, but he was nervously clasping and twisting his hands together, then pulling them apart again. Despite his outward tension, Draco’s gaze was steady, and his silvery-grey eyes were bright.

Harry tilted his head ever so slightly to the side and arched an eyebrow at Draco.

“Here? Now?” he asked.

Draco parted his lips but didn’t speak.

He neither shook his head nor blinked.

Harry smiled.

“Stand up,” he whispered softly.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then did as told, but it took him two attempts before he managed to steadily stand on two feet.

Remaining on the parquet, Harry shifted and got down on one knee.

In front of him, Draco gasped once more, and Harry was vaguely aware of Teddy, giving them both a bit of space. Harry appreciated it but didn’t look away to check on Teddy. Instead, he took Draco’s trembling left hand and toyed with the beautifully sparkling silver Malfoy signet ring on the third finger of his left hand. He felt the tremor that surged through Draco and smiled.

“I was going to wait until Christmas Day morning,” he said, “but I suppose today is as good a day as any to ask the love of my life to marry me. What say you, Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?”

At his question, Draco’s jaw dropped, and his silvery-grey eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He gulped and stared, and Harry counted the seconds. He got to ten before he heard Draco’s response.

“Yes.”

It was only a whisper, but to Harry, it felt like Draco had shouted his answer from the rooftop of the world’s highest skyscraper. He clambered to his feet, winced when his knee briefly protested and smiled when Teddy excitedly clapped beside them. He broke eye contact with Draco and flashed his godson a toothy grin.

“Be a good boy and ask Nana Cissy to put the champagne on ice, Teddy.”

Teddy nodded enthusiastically and bolted towards the door, skidding on the smooth wood beneath his feet. The second his godson was out of sight, Harry pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him hard, possessively claiming his mouth. He parted Draco’s willing lips with his own, and slithering his tongue into Draco’s mouth, he wrapped it around its twin, deepening the kiss.

Draco melted against him, and Harry engulfed him in a bone-crushing embrace that knocked whatever tiny amount of air, Draco still had left at the bottom of his lungs, straight out of him.

Harry didn’t break the kiss for the longest time, but by the time he did, Draco was a breathless, panting mess. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were dark with desire. His lips were swollen and wet, and although all they’d done had been to share a passionate snog, Harry couldn’t help but think that Draco looked positively debauched.

“Mine,” he whispered.

Draco, incapable of voicing his agreement, nodded.

He gulped down a large lungful of air, then smiled shyly.

“Yours,” he breathed.

Harry smiled.

“I do have a ring for you; it’s at home in my nightstand.”

Draco blinked.

“You do?”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, I had it custom-made for you a few weeks ago.”

Draco pressed his lips together, then exhaled, and shuddered.

“Wish I’d waited?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head.

“No,” he said, his voice hushed, soft.

He cleared his throat.

“No,” he repeated himself.

“This was perfect.”

Harry smiled, and relief flowed through him, then the realisation of what he’d just done hit him full force. The blow landed squarely in the centre of his chest, and he gasped.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I just proposed to you.”

A warm rumble of laughter escaped past Draco’s parted lips and his eyes danced with mirth, then he blinked, and a stream of silent tears rolled down his cheek. At the sight, Harry felt himself well up.

“You proposed,” Draco murmured.

Harry nodded.

“I did.”

Draco brought a single hand up to his face and attempted to dry his cheeks; however, Harry caught his hand before he could complete the action, then did it himself.

He pulled Draco in and kissed him softly.

“We’re engaged,” Draco mumbled with a shaky breath, afterwards.

Harry smiled and sniffed, wiping his own tears away.

“We are.”

“Fuck, Potter, one of these days your complete confidence in absolutely everything will be the death of me.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that.

He was about to open his mouth to make a retort when a loud crack and Narcissa’s appearance in the ballroom distracted him. He saw her swish her drawn wand, and a second after her arrival, bright-green and sparkling red fireworks erupted above his and Draco’s head.

“Mother!” Draco protested, looking positively outraged.

Narcissa flashed her son a positively sly smirk and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle softly, which earnt him a deadly glower from Draco.

“A reliable source informed me that congratulations are in order?”

Draco groaned and dropped his head onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry squeezed his hip, welcoming his closeness. Draco turned his head and mumbled his next words directly into his neck.

“She’s going to tell everyone before the day is out,” he whined.

Harry squeezed his hip again, hoping the gesture was reassuring.

“She won’t, I promise you.”

Draco wailed against his neck, clearly not convinced.

“You don’t know my mother, Potter. She’s been waiting for this ever since our dance at that Ministry function made the frontpages.”

“Trust me, she won’t,” he whispered.

Draco straightened himself up.

“I’ll hold you accountable if she does.”

Harry smiled.

“Sure.”

* * *

* * *


	31. Mothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I had fun with this, yes, a lot of fun.
> 
> A bit of sexiness, a bit of kink, a bit of romance, a bit of love, a bit of drama, a bit of sass, a bit of madness. Perfect. Good night.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

“I am not throwing an engagement party!”

Crossing his arms over his chest and pulling himself up to his full height, Harry firmly put his foot down, if only figuratively. He wasn’t about to stomp his feet like a petulant little child in front of Molly, Arthur and several members of the Weasley family which included Ginny, Charlie, George and his wife, and Ron and Hermione.

He didn’t know whether it was the fact that he was still wearing his Auror uniform that made him bold, or whether it was the fact that arguing about an engagement party with Molly made him giddy because it made the fact that he and Draco were engaged so much more real, but he wasn’t about to give in to Molly.

Not this time.

Harry thought about the ring he’d placed on Draco’s finger and revelled in the pure excitement that made his chest swell.

He’d asked Draco to marry him.

Draco had said yes.

They were engaged.

He still wasn’t going to give in to Molly.

Not this time.

No, absolutely not.

She could stare him down all she wanted.

Harry wasn’t going to give in.

Not this time.

Not this time.

Not this time.

He repeated the words in his head, like a mantra and clung to them.

_You’re the Director of the Auror Department and the Assistant Director of the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement_, Draco had drawled, using that rich aristocratic tone of his to get under Harry’s skin, _get some guts and stand up to the woman, Potter!_

Harry’s palms had itched at hearing those words.

He’d wanted to bend Draco over his desk, drag his expensive tailormade trousers down and spank his arse until those perfect milky globes glowed red and burned with the lingering sting of his smacks.

Only the fact that Draco hadn’t been able to stop himself from staring and had practically drooled all over his Auror uniform had distracted him enough to stop him from spanking Draco in his office in the middle of their workday. The way Draco had licked his lips and silently devoured him with those silvery-grey eyes had him imagining every possible position in which he could fuck Draco without removing his uniform. He knew exactly what was on Draco’s mind. Their roleplay scene, and the way Harry had taken him apart, slow and steady, and until he’d reduced Draco down to an incoherent babbling boneless mess.

As delightful as it was, Harry resolutely shoved the memory into a dark corner of his mind.

It was giving him a raging hard-on, and he couldn’t deal with that kind of distraction right now.

Not when Molly was intentionally trying to wear him down.

No, he wasn’t going to give in.

Not this time.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Harry focused on that.

The ring on Draco’s finger.

They were engaged.

They were going to get married.

Draco was going to be his forever.

He wasn’t going to give in.

Not this time.

No, most definitely not.

No party to celebrate his and Draco’s very recent engagement.

Absolutely not.

* * *

**Flashback Start**

* * *

_Dressed in a pair of black boxer briefs and a white T-shirt, Draco emerged from Harry’s and his en-suite bathroom and promptly stopped in his tracks. Harry, clearly not having bothered to put on much more than a pair of navy-blue boxer briefs, sat on the bed, casually toying with a small ring box, covered in green velvet._

_Draco swallowed hard._

_Harry looked up and smiled._

_His emerald-green eyes sparkled behind his spectacles._

_“C’mere, my love,” he said._

_His voice was low and husky._

_It had that edge to it; the one that Draco found irresistible. It was _that voice_; the one that regularly turned his world upside down. Draco had a particular weakness for _that voice_. To him, it was everything and then some. He supposed that deep down he had it in him to try and defy Harry, to ignore anything and everything he said when he used _that voice_, but Draco saw no discernible reason for doing so. Right this moment, the pull of Harry’s voice wasn’t quite as strong as it could be, but it was enough for Draco to focus on it and nothing else._

_An exquisite tremor trickled down the length of his spine, and he moved towards Harry, standing between his legs._

_Harry took his left hand, and for a moment, he toyed with the Malfoy signet ring, then he looked up and holding Draco’s gaze he asked whether he had permission to remove it._

_Draco swallowed._

_He nodded._

_“Yes,” he whispered._

_Harry slipped the signet ring off his finger and placed it on the second finger of his right hand. It was a bit loose but not loose enough for Draco to worry that he might lose the family heirloom somewhere. Draco resisted flexing his fingers but couldn’t deny that his left hand looked uncomfortably naked without any jewellery adorning it. Strangely enough, it hadn’t taken Draco long to get used to wearing a miniature version of his family’s coat of arms and now that Harry had moved the ring, he felt like something was missing._

_Before Draco could contemplate the issue any further, he felt Harry’s thumb caress the third finger of his left hand. He did it with a kind of tenderness that made Draco shiver. He shuffled his feet and curled his toes into the soft carpet beneath them._

_“Can I see it?” he asked._

_Harry smiled._

_He nodded._

_“Sure.”_

_Without letting go of his left hand, Harry flicked the small box open and revealed the ring to Draco. It was a smooth silver band, Draco suspected it to be white-gold, with three precious sparkling gems embedded into the metal, one diamond and two emeralds. Green and silver. Everything about the ring screamed Slytherin and Draco couldn’t help but smile. He reached out to touch the ring, but before he could get close enough, Harry snapped the lid down, closing the box. The sudden sound startled Draco a little, but after about three seconds, he began to giggle._

_His giggle turned into a nervous chuckle and finally into a laugh, and feeling his knees buckle a little, he leant forward, wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders and hugged him._

_“Fuck me, Harry. We’re engaged,” he said, just a smidgen out of breath and once again in awe about what they’d done, what Harry had done, and what they’d both agreed on._

_Harry snaked his arms around his waist and let himself fall backwards, pulling him along. They both landed on the bed, and shuffling, Draco sat astride Harry’s hips. He braced himself on Harry’s naked chest and relished in the coarseness of Harry’s chest hair gently tickling the palms of his hands._

_He ran his fingers through the dark bristly hairs and smiled._

_Harry grinned._

_“It would be my pleasure to fuck you, my little prince. Shall I do it now or after I put the ring on your finger?”_

_Harry cocked a brow at him, and a wicked smirk danced around the edges of his mouth, framing his lips and quirking them upwards._

_Draco huffed, though not in annoyance but with amusement._

_“Ring first,” he said._

_Harry chuckled._

_“As you wish, my little prince.”_

_He opened the box again and removing the ring from it, Draco watched, with bated breath, as Harry took his left hand and slowly slipped the ring onto his ring finger._

_Somehow, Draco was not in the least surprised about the fact that the ring fitted perfectly, as though Harry had known his exact measurements all along and given them to the jeweller when he’d ordered the custom-made ring._

_Harry had a way of knowing things. It was a part of him, Draco was immensely attracted to, one he couldn’t quite get enough of. Harry was able to read him like a book, and he knew all of his little tells. Theirs was a kind of love that left Draco breathless, speechless and exhilarated._

_With the ring now on his finger, Draco let his hands slide up to Harry’s shoulders and massaged them, ironing out a kink or two. He then dragged his nails ever so gently along Harry’s neck and combed his fingers through his tussled hair. It was still slightly damp and soft to the touch._

_“Make love to me, please, Sir.”_

_He whispered the words against Harry’s lips, then kissed him, slowly, softly, letting Harry take over and set the pace._

_Draco felt Harry’s hands on his hips and revelled in the firm squeeze. He rolled his hips and ground them against Harry’s. In response to his cheek, warm hands slipped underneath his T-shirt, and Harry ran his fingertips along the entire length of his spine, steadily dragging his top up and exposing his back._

_Harry didn’t need to ask him to lift his hands above his head, Draco did it out of his own accord, and Harry pulled the shirt over his head and flung it across the bed, then dragged his nails down Draco’s back._

_Draco shivered and arched his back._

_A low moan escaped him, and he buried face in the crook of Harry’s neck, inhaling deeply. Harry smelled of freshness, of coconut body wash and citrusy shampoo._

He borrowed mine again_, Draco thought fondly and took another deep breath._

_Harry’s hands slipped underneath the thin material of his boxer briefs and cupped his arse, squeezing it. The touch felt possessive, and Draco wanted Harry to never stop doing it._

_They shared another passionate kiss, then Harry flipped him over and pinned him to the bed with the entire weight of his body. He braced himself on his arms and filling his lungs with some much-needed oxygen, Draco looked up at his fiancé._

_His fiancé._

_Draco couldn’t have stopped the stupid grin if he’d tried._

_But he didn’t try._

_He just let it happen._

_Harry smiled._

_“What are you thinking about?” he asked._

_Draco felt his cheeks burn a little and knew that he was blushing._

_He didn’t care._

_“That I’m your fiancé and that you’re mine,” he said._

_Harry’s chuckle was low and soft._

_The sound danced in the small space between them, lingering, keeping the atmosphere between them light and playful._

_Harry kissed him again, then pulled away, cupped his cheek, pressed a thumb to his lips and reached for his hand. He kissed the engagement ring on his finger and winked._

_“Stay here, my little prince, don’t move.”_

_Unable to speak, Draco simply nodded._

_Harry climbed off their bed and disappeared from the bedroom._

_Several minutes past and although he really wanted to know where Harry had gone and what he was doing, Draco kept his promise._

_He didn’t move._

_A moment later, Harry re-entered their bedroom and climbed onto the bed. In his hand was a coil of rope._

_Draco offered him his wrists before Harry could ask him and while a smile, Harry expertly fastened the short coil of rope around his wrists, binding them together, restraining him. The rope was loose enough for Draco to move, twist and wriggle his wrists, but it wasn’t loose enough for him to free himself. He watched, silently, as Harry slowly dragged his arms over his head and fastened the two ends of the rope to the headboard._

_He trailed a single finger along Draco’s right arm, over his armpit and down his side and Draco made a futile attempt to escape the teasing, tickling touch but was unsuccessful. Harry’s finger trailed along the waistband of his boxer briefs, then up and around his navel. He felt Harry circle it and felt his abdominal muscles contract in response. Harry dragged his nails up, around and over his hard nipples, teasing him._

_Draco hissed at the pain, then inhaled sharply when Harry rolled his nipples between his thumb and forefinger before squeezing and twisting them. A low moan escaped past Draco’s lips._

_Harry paused, leant down and kissed him._

_“I’m going to worship every inch of your perfect body, my sweet little prince, and then I’m going to make you come like you’ve never come before.”_

_Draco shivered._

_He did not doubt that Harry would do precisely what he’d just told him and Draco couldn’t wait. Every single nerve ending inside his body came to life and arousal flowed through him and pooled low in his groin. The anticipation he felt was unquenchable and he struggled to concentrate for long enough to get his brain and mouth to cooperate._

_“Yes, please.”_

* * *

**Flashback End**

* * *

Harry wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Molly also crossed her arms over her chest. Her chocolate-brown eyes, which were usually so full of warmth and love and often too much concern for her children and her family in general, pierced him. Molly looked positively menacing, and Harry tried telling himself that the reason she held a wooden spoon in her hand was not why he felt so uncomfortable.

For a moment, he thought about giving in and letting Molly Weasley have her way after all but resolutely banished the idea about ten seconds after it had entered his head.

Wasn’t anyone going to try and speak up for him?

What was the point of having an engagement party?

Didn’t Molly know him at all?

Most days, the _Prophet_, and every other wizarding publication, was writing this, that, or the other about him anyway. Granted, usually, it was in connection with the cases he was involved in, but that didn’t stop the tabloids and gossip columns speculating about every single aspect of his life.

He and Draco were going to get married.

Unless they eloped, a wedding reception, even a small one, was unavoidable.

What was the point of celebrating the fact that he’d put a ring on Draco’s finger?

He and Draco had already celebrated, in the privacy of their bedroom and upstairs in the playroom.

They’d celebrated more than once and in every imaginable position.

At some point, there had also been champagne, which he’d poured all over Draco only to suggestively lick it off his skin before bending him over the kitchen table and fucking him into blissful oblivion.

Their celebrations had been romantic, kinky, loving, rough, hot, cold, and at least one of their commemorations had included a fair amount of kneeling and pain.

Harry glanced at Arthur, who painstakingly avoided looking him directly in the eye and nervously fiddled with the sleeves of his robes instead.

_Lost cause_, Harry thought bitterly.

There was no way Arthur Weasley was going to try and convince his wife that throwing an engagement party for him and Draco was a horrible idea.

Ginny, home for the weekend after a long series of Quidditch tournaments, looked thoroughly amused but shrugged. Despite her confidence and cheek, she, too, seemed disinclined to side with him and bore the brunt of her mother’s wrath.

Charlie just raised his arms in mock surrender, and Harry felt sorely tempted to toss a wandless stinging hex at his arse.

George was very busy whispering something into his wife’s ear, and Ron had the are-you-fucking-mental-expression painted all over his face.

Finally, Hermione spoke up.

“I think a little celebration would be wonderful,” she said.

_Backstabbing ―_, Harry bit his tongue hard to stop himself from thinking that last word but glared at his best friend.

He glanced at everyone who’d gathered around the Burrow’s dinner table and seriously considered finding himself another family to adopt him.

He and Andromeda were practically family. They’d lived together for five years. That had to count for something, right?

And Narcissa Malfoy was really a lovely woman. Sure, she had her quirks but considering that she was a pureblood witch and had married into one of the wealthiest wizarding families in Europe, the one or other oddity was to be expected, wasn’t it?

Harry was about to open his mouth and tell Molly that there was absolutely no way that he was going to agree to an engagement party when the front door of the Burrow flew open and none other but Draco Malfoy, still wearing his prosecutor’s robes, strode inside. He had his wand drawn and waving it at the door; he slammed it with such venom that the hinges creaked and the entire house groaned.

“Harry James Potter!”

“Present,” Harry said, “If you yell any louder Xenophilius Lovegood will have heard you too.”

Draco shot him a positively murderous glare and thrust a fancy-looking envelope at him. It landed precisely an inch away from the tip of his left Ministry-issued dragonhide boots and briefly glancing at it; Harry arched an eyebrow at his boyfriend. There was no way he was going to bend down and pick up whatever Draco had just tossed at his feet. That was not how their relationship worked. It had never worked like this and Harry wasn’t about to change the rules. Not even in a room full of Weasleys.

“You promised you’d keep Mother quiet!” Draco wailed.

He looked like he was about to faint or blow up.

Given that he didn’t have all the facts yet, Harry wasn’t sure which one was more likely.

He pressed his lips together and only barely resisted the urge to smirk.

Draco’s theatrics had always been and would always be a source of his amusement.

“And I have. Your mother has assured me that she will not be writing to the _Prophet_ to announce our engagement.”

Draco groaned.

“Potter, you are aware that my mother is a complete Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry said with a careful nod.

Draco flicked his wand and the envelope; he’d tossed at Harry earlier, and levitated it off the ground. It hovered in the air in front of Harry, and he reached for it, effectively ending the spell.

“Has my beloved mother also promised you not to do this?” Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry inspected the expensive-looking envelope, opened it and pulled a cream-coloured thick card out.

On its front was the photograph of him and Draco dancing at that blasted Ministry function and above it, the writing slanted and elegant, it said:

_We are engaged!_

Harry didn’t think he needed to open the card to understand why Draco was so agitated and furious. He stuffed the card back inside the envelope and turning on the heel of his boot; he faced Molly.

“There will be a small dinner for close family and a few friends in a private room at a restaurant of my choice in London after Christmas. Molly, so help me Merlin, I love you to death, and you are like a mother to me, but you will stay as far away from Narcissa Malfoy for the entire dinner and the celebratory drinks we’ll have afterwards or else you and I will have the biggest fight in history. There will be no plotting and neither one of you will contact the other to hash out the details of Draco’s and my wedding. If I have to, I will force you both to take an Unbreakable Vow.”

Harry was well aware of the smirk that formed around Molly’s lips, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he swirled around, and with his scarlet Auror robes billowing behind him, he grabbed Draco by the wrist and walked out the front door. On his way out, he made sure to toss Narcissa’s engagement party invitation into the fireplace, where the flames greedily ate it up as it recoiled in horror.

He and Draco had walked almost all the way back to Ottery St. Catchpole when Draco suddenly stopped. Harry turned around to look at him and flashed him a reassuring smile.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

Harry pulled him into his arms and kissed him softly.

“You’re sexy when you’re rattled, Draco Malfoy,” he whispered.

Draco shuddered.

“You’re hot when you get all protective, Harry Potter,” he said.

Given their proximity, his murmur was soft and the words vibrated against Harry’s lips.

He smiled and kissed Draco again.

“I gave you my word.”

“You did.”

“And I told you that I don’t make promises I don’t keep.”

Draco chuckled.

“Does Molly Weasley know that?”

Harry nodded.

“She does.”

Draco grinned.

“Salazar, one of these days you will be my undoing, Harry James Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“I can make that happen tonight if you want.”

A delectable tremor surged through Draco, and Harry felt every second of it.

“There’s one promise you made me, Potter, that you’ve yet to fulfil,” Draco said quietly.

Harry pulled back a little and quirked his brow at him.

“And which one is that?” he asked.

“On our first date, you promised to take me to Canada someday.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“I haven’t forgotten. I’ll take you there for our honeymoon. Toronto has a pretty exciting kink scene. I’m sure we can find a private dungeon where I’ll get to indulge in the pleasure of tying my new husband up and giving his arse a beautiful blush.”

Even though they’d stopped between two street lanterns and they were standing in a rather dim spot, Harry could see Draco’s silvery-grey eyes without difficulty. He watched as they darkened, turning into a smoky, smouldering grey.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Draco swallowed hard.

“What―”

Draco’s voice broke and he had to clear his throat before he could start again.

“What you just said,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

“Do you want it?”

Draco nodded.

“How bad?” he asked.

“Very bad,” Draco murmured.

Since his arms were still wrapped around Draco’s waist, Harry let his left hand slip down to Draco’s arse. He squeezed one cheek, grasped it firmly, and held on to it, delighting in the way Draco gasped.

A shiver surged through him.

Harry brought his other hand up and cupped Draco’s cheek. He traced Draco’s lips, still moist from their last kiss, with his thumb, then pressed its tip against Draco’s bottom lip, and dragged it down.

“Then I guess I better get you home, my little prince, and attend to your needs.”

Draco shuddered.

“Yes, please.”

Harry smiled.

“Just promise to remind me to send Molly a gift basket tomorrow. I know she’s pleased as punch that she got her way after all, but I’d better make it up to her before she holds a real grudge. That woman is a scary dragon.”

Draco huffed out a breath of laughter.

“I’ll sort out the hamper myself. I’ll even deliver it in person. Just don’t make me deal with my mother, please.”

Harry grinned.

“Alright, you take mine, and I’ll take yours. We reconvene tomorrow night to discuss progress.”

“Deal.”

“Brilliant. Now, less talk about family and more talk about getting you home, naked and into my ropes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

* * *

* * *


	32. The Reason I Love Him, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Channelling your frustrations and your upset into your work generally produces favourable results and that's exactly how I feel about this chapter.
> 
> I would like to thank my inner Slytherin for their unyielding support and belief in my ability as a writer and my creativity. I would also like to thank my brother, for always having my back and my girlfriend, for giving me the space to process things without demanding an explanation, I might not be entirely ready for. I would also like to thank my cat, Master Shane, for his unconditional love.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Harry watched, with a smile, as Narcissa set her delicate crystalline teacup down on top of a matching vitreous saucer. She reached for a crisp Ginger Nut biscuit, took a bite, and nodding in silent approval; she placed the remainder of the flat, round cake on a separate small plate beside her drink.

“Quite the perfect combination,” she said.

“Oh?”

While reaching for his coffee mug, Harry politely feigned his interest. He wasn’t the least bit bothered about drawing out the inevitable. They both knew why he’d stopped by the Manor, and even though he had an afternoon full of meetings ahead of him, he didn’t think that there was anything wrong with spending a bit of quality time with Draco’s mother.

Narcissa smiled.

“Well, you see, a perfect Ginger Nut biscuit has a powerful crunch to it. It gives you an instant hit of citrus, followed by the mouth-filling warmth of ginger. Makes it the ideal partner for a cup of Earl Grey, thanks to the tea’s scents of Bergamot oil and citrus fruit.”

Harry grinned, feeling his smile stretch his lips as they curled upward and settled there.

“A few more lunch breaks spent in your company and you’ll turn me into a connoisseur in no time,” he said.

The sincere compliment fell from Harry’s lips in a manner that required absolutely no mental exertion, and he wasn’t lying. One simply couldn’t deny that Narcissa Malfoy had poise. She had class and carried herself with an air of self-assurance that was both sophisticated and elegant. Harry partly attributed that to her pureblood upbringing, as well as the fact that she’d married into the Malfoy family, but also directly to the kind of person she was; a refined, well-read, and civilised woman with solid opinions and beliefs.

Narcissa laughed.

It was a soft and quiet sort of laugh, the kind Harry expected from her. Although he had previously seen her double over with laughter and knew that she wasn’t opposed to showing her emotions, even if she only did so on her terms and when she felt comfortable to let down that particular guard.

“I’ll leave that up to Draco,” she said. “Speaking of which, has my son forgiven me yet?”

A small smirk played around the edges of Narcissa’s burgundy-red lips, and Harry chuckled.

“More or less.”

Narcissa leant back on her chaise and folded her hands in her lap.

Her smile faded somewhat, and she adopted a more sombre expression.

“Draco knows perfectly well that I wouldn’t have sent out the engagement announcement before speaking to both of you first, but my son has always had a fondness for the theatrics. I’m not entirely sure where he gets it from though.”

Harry bit the inside of his mouth to help him keep a straight face. He knew precisely where Draco’s entirely instinctive aptitude for drama came from ― throughout the six years they’d spent at Hogwarts together, Draco had always gone above and beyond to make sure that Harry noticed him, and ninety-nine-point-nine per cent of the time he’d succeeded. Harry wasn’t even ashamed to admit that ― Draco had always been on his mind.

And how could he not?

Draco had sassed, snarked, and showed himself off with such reckless passion; Harry would have to have been a complete fool not to notice him. Draco had done almost anything to make sure that he stood out from the crowd, and the creativity with which he’d placed himself in the spotlight, well, it still made Harry’s heart flutter with intense excitement while his entire being filled with a kind of unquenchable desire to take Draco in his arms and never let him go.

The feeling got so fierce that Harry had to take a deep breath. He held it in for several seconds, then exhaled with a soft smile.

“His flair for drama is one of many things I love about him,” he said.

He could hear his all-consuming fondness for Draco in his own voice, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about his mawkishness. He thought about the many things Draco, most of the time deliberately, said or did that made his palm itch, made him want to spank Draco’s divine arse, but whichever way he looked at it, Harry couldn’t come up with a single thing, Draco could do, that would make him stop loving his little prince or render him unwilling to show his love freely and without qualms. Well, realistically speaking, there were a few things on Harry’s list of hard limits, but he knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that Draco wouldn’t ever do any of those things.

“I don’t think there’s anything you don’t love about my son, Harry Potter.”

Narcissa’s statement told Harry that he hadn’t done a very good job at hiding the direction of his thoughts. She’d clearly read him like an open book ― Harry didn’t feel self-conscious about that either. There was literally no force that was strong enough to possess the power to make him want to stop showing the world how much he loved Draco, and he didn’t even care how utterly corny and clichéd that sounded. Draco was his and Harry wanted everyone to know. He was quite happy to scream it from the rooftops, although he doubted that he ever would. There were far better ways to show Draco how much he cared and how deeply in love he was with him.

Harry forced himself out of his mind and back into the present to order to resume his conversation ― there was a spot of daydreaming, and then there was being downright rude, and that wasn’t the kind of behaviour he wanted to exhibit in front of his future mother-in-law.

“You are quite right about that, Narcissa,” he said.

Narcissa’s smile spoke volumes.

She unclasped her hands and reached for her tea, carefully bringing it up to her lipstick-covered lips to drink more tea, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while. Harry finished his coffee, and following a casual glance at his wristwatch, he politely declined a refill. It was almost time for him to return to the Ministry.

“I think it was just a bit much, you know, we only just got engaged, and while we were never going to keep it from you or my family, we’re in no rush to tell the public, although I’m pretty sure it won’t take long for them to put two and two together.”

Narcissa nodded.

“I got swept up in the excitement, mothers occasionally do. Forgive me.”

Harry smiled.

He shook his head.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said.

“If only my dear son were as level-headed as you.”

With a chuckle, Harry rose to his feet and smoothed out his Auror uniform, doing up the buttons of his jacket.

“Draco is very level-headed when it comes to his job. I think we can agree that he’s entitled to let me take care of the rest.”

Narcissa’s eyes twinkled with what Harry considered a knowing sort of spark. She got up and stepping out from behind the coffee table, she carefully smoothed her ankle-length, dark-green velvet dress out. Libby, the house-elf, appeared with Harry’s scarlet Auror robes but Narcissa placed a hand on his forearm, gently stopping him from reaching for them just yet.

Harry crooked a questioning eyebrow at her.

“What is it?” he asked.

Narcissa smiled, but Harry could tell that she only did it to cover up some of her ever-present worry about her son. He didn’t begrudge her that feeling. She loved him with all her heart, and the fact that he was all grown up and engaged to be married wasn’t going to deter her from showing her concern.

“Will you promise me to make sure to keep a lid on things once the papers to get hold of the news that you and Draco are engaged? I expect the whole thing is going to cause quite the commotion and to be honest; I’m worried that they are going to try and drag up Draco’s past. We both know he’s going to put on a brave face and pretend that it doesn’t bother him, but I know it will. It’s going to eat him up.”

Narcissa’s concern for Draco’s mental wellbeing instantly resulted in a tenfold increase of Harry’s respect for the mother of his precious little prince. He could see it so clearly in her eyes and right this moment; he couldn’t help but wonder whether Draco knew, whether he knew just how much and how unconditionally his mother loved him and that she would rather endure hell on earth before she let any harm come to Draco. He was reasonably sure that Draco knew, but still, he did wonder ― just a little and because his insatiable curiosity was one of his trademarks.

For a moment, he recalled that fateful night in the forest, when, after reassuring her that Draco was alive and safe, Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort and therefore put her life on the line to save his. During that brief exchange, she had, in his eyes, redeemed herself wholly and thoroughly, and that was precisely what he’d told Kingsley and the Wizengamot during a private hearing.

While Draco had fought for his own pardon and had received it, he’d given Narcissa hers. They’d never talked about it, not after the trial and most definitely not after he and Draco had gotten together. He and Draco had never talked about it either, but Harry had a strong feeling, it was really more of a sensation deep inside of him, that Draco knew. After all, he was a Senior Prosecutor for the Wizengamot with unrestricted access to the archives. There was no way he hadn’t, during some point in his career, gone and done a bit of curious snooping.

Harry had to, once again, shake off the memories and closing the door on that particular part of his history; he wordlessly pulled Narcissa into a hug, which she, much to his delight, reciprocated.

They hugged a little longer than strictly necessary, and when Harry finally pulled away, he took Narcissa’s petite hand and sandwiched it between his larger and slightly calloused hands, then gave it a little squeeze.

He smiled softly.

“I promise you that you can be absolutely sure about me keeping the press in line, being Harry Potter comes with a few benefits of its own. Besides, after Skeeter’s exposé, the Prophet is still rather careful with what they say about Draco and me, but especially with how they word things. I don’t think Barnabas’ heart can handle another instance of me storming into his office and screaming bloody murder. Now, I wish the same could be said about Witch Weekly, but that tabloid isn’t ever going to stop speculating or dial down its level of inappropriateness.”

“If I may offer a suggestion?”

Harry nodded.

“Yes,” he said.

“One of the reasons why I started to write those announcements, and Draco absolutely knows that, is that ancient pureblood traditions stipulate that while society is certainly entitled to frown upon the planned union, but unless one wants to find themselves ostracised, one keeps their opinions to hush whispers behind firmly closed doors. If you and Draco allow me to dispatch the announcements, Barnabas Cuffe will most definitely be the first one to receive one of my owls to inform him that my son is engaged to Harry Potter and that you two are planning to marry. Unless he wants to risk the persecution of his newspaper by the public and the Ministry, and trust me that will happen because purebloods are sticklers for traditions, you and me sadly know that all too well, he isn’t going to be able to do much more than print a very neutral frontpage article about yours and Draco’s upcoming nuptials. However, if you wait for the press to find out, there isn’t much you, and I can do to protect Draco, and if you ask me, I’d much rather see the Prophet’s hands tied.”

Harry simply had to laugh at that.

“As an Auror, I appreciate that metaphor.”

Narcissa flashed him a wicked smirk.

“I thought you might,” she said.

Harry patted the back of her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, then let go and took his robes from Libby, thanking her for her patience. She shuffled her feet, making her embarrassment quite apparent, then bowed deeply.

“It’s an honour, Master Potter, Sir.”

Harry shook his head and was about to remind her, yet again, that there was absolutely no need for such formalities, but she disappeared with a snap of her long fingers before he could do so. With a sigh, Harry pulled his robes on and fastened the clasp at the front.

“I’m afraid I’ve got to head back to the Ministry, but I’ll speak to Draco tonight, and I’ll let you know what he decides. I’m going to leave the decision up to him; whatever he wants to do, I’ll have his back.”

Narcissa nodded.

“I know you will, Harry.”

Harry smiled.

“We’ll see you soon, alright?”

“You’re welcome here at the Manor anytime. This is Draco’s home so consider it your home as well. You needn’t ever worry about stepping on my toes. This place is big enough for us to go for weeks without crossing paths, if we really put our minds to it, that is.”

Harry laughed.

“Let’s not.”

Narcissa gave him a sly wink.

“Yes, let’s not.”

She leant forward and pressing her cheek to his; she kissed him.

“Give my love to Draco.”

Harry nodded.

“I will. Take care.”

With that, he turned on his heel and leaving Narcissa’s parlour; he made his way into the entrance hall and floo’ed back to the Ministry.

* * *

* * *


	33. The Reason I Love Him, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that's a bit sweet. And bitter. And kinky. And perhaps contains the one or other "naw" moment to gush over.
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Draco clasped his hands around the fiery-red large mug in front of him. It was filled to the brim with the most delicious homemade hot chocolate, Draco had ever tasted. Mainly because it didn’t only taste of chocolate but also of love and home and safety and warmth; all the things Draco treasured.

He made a mental note to ask Harry to occasionally include some hot cocoa with cinnamon as part of post-play aftercare, and smiled softly to himself ― he didn’t think Harry would deny him that particular request, Harry hardly ever denied him anything and even if he did, he never denied him for long and only in the best possible way. Harry always indulged his sweet tooth, and even though it was on his terms, even though he made the rules, Draco didn’t mind. Harry always found extremely creative ways for them both to benefit from Draco’s fondness for chocolate, biscuits and other types of sweets.

The drink’s warmth steadily seeped into his palms and slowly travelled up his arms, gradually thawing him from the inside out. It felt a bit like magic, very gentle magic, and in the absence of Harry’s warming charms, Draco thoroughly delighted in it.

Ottery St. Catchpole’s apparition point was only a short walk away from the Burrow, but temperatures had dropped sharply this morning, and it was freezing cold outside. According to recent news reports, this year’s winter was going to be the coldest winter of the last fifty years, and Draco didn’t look forward to it, not in the slightest.

Despite the short walk, by the time Draco had arrived at the Burrow’s front door, the icy winds had turned his hands and cheeks a flaming shade of red, and he’d been most grateful when Molly had immediately ushered him inside, not in the least bit surprised or inconvenienced by his unscheduled visit.

She’d practically forced him into the chair nearest to the fireplace, and after a while of watching the crackling flames warily, and repeatedly reminding himself that they weren’t going to suddenly spring to life to hurt or attack him, Draco had shrugged his outer robes off and managed to relax into the moment.

In instances like this, he failed to properly understand his own fear. Candles were absolutely fine, these days they weren’t a problem, but whenever he wasn’t in Harry’s company, the sizzling and sputtering of a lit fireplace still mildly terrified him.

Yet somehow, Harry had this inexplicable way of taking the lingering remnants of his phobia away. There was no room for it in his head when Harry was with him. With Harry, the fear didn’t matter, because all Draco had to do was to remember what it had felt like when Harry had come back for him when he’d flown him to safety. It was a memory he clung to when life got a bit too much, and it was also the very reason why he found trusting Harry so easy. Back then, he hadn’t understood it properly, but Harry had been his rock throughout it all, mostly unconsciously, but he had been there.

These days, Harry was even more than that. He was his anchor. Harry kept him sane and grounded to the real world, but was the only person who could take him out of it and transport him to this other place, a fantastic world of endless possibilities when he needed it the most.

To Draco, that was the epitome of true love. He took a glance at the engagement ring on his ring and smiled softly to himself. It was a tangible representation of his feelings for Harry and Harry’s feelings for him. He was mildly surprised about the fact that his co-workers had yet to catch on but figured that most of them had simply gotten used to seeing him with his Malfoy crest ring and didn’t bother taking a closer look.

Thank you, Mother, Draco thought with a fond smile. He made a second mental note. This one was to remind him to do something special for his mother next time he stopped by the Manor.

It had taken quite a bit of persuasion before Molly had finally relented and accepted the luxurious hamper; he’d picked up at Harrods the day before, but Draco had made full use of his Malfoyesque charm, and with a bit of Slytherin cunningness, he’d managed to convince Molly Weasley that it was in her best interest to accept Harry’s and his gifts.

He was quite aware that he’d gone a bit over the top with the number of items, he’d chosen, but he’d lost himself in the moment ― shopping occasionally did that to him.

Now, in the aftermath of it all, Draco absolutely couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision to spent a ridiculous amount of Muggle money of the gift basket. Harry had inspected the extravagant present with the greatest amusement but had pulled him into an incredibly passionate kiss afterwards, using physical contact to reassure him and let him know that he supported him.

Draco momentarily pressed his lips firmly together.

They tingled pleasantly at the memory of yesterday’s passionate snog. As he delved deeper into his mind, Draco felt himself blush but still allowed himself a moment to relive the sensation of Harry pulling away from the kiss, cupping his face with his strong hands and staring deep into his eyes.

In those precious few seconds, the sexual tension between them had been palpable. He’d felt the ripples of Harry’s desire rolling off him in waves; each one more intense than the last. When Harry had roughly bent him over the kitchen table and claimed what was rightfully his to claim, Draco had loved every second of it, every bruising grip, every precise thrust, every lick, every bite, and every fierce kiss.

A shiver trickled down Draco’s spine, and with burning cheeks, he hastily lifted his mug up to his lips and sipped on his hot chocolate, hoping that the cup was concealing at least some of his embarrassment over the fact that he was sat at Molly’s dining table, thinking of Harry and him having wild and unrestrained kitchen sex.

He watched, over the mug’s rim, as Molly continued to unpack the hamper, scrutinising every single item with a spark of joy shining in her eyes. She was most definitely enjoying herself; Draco was sure of that.

He had chosen two bottles of exquisite sherry for her and two bottles of Muggle whiskey for Arthur. He’d also splashed out on a selection of British cheeses, clotted cream, strawberry preserve, Highland Black Tea, chutney, exotic mustard, whiskey cake, crackers, fudge, elegant English biscuits, an assortment of tarts and scones, baking chocolate, five pounds of black forest ham, breakfast sausages, and a few imported products from France, Germany, Italy, and Spain.

With the trunk-sized hamper now empty and the old table groaning in protest, Molly drew her wand and levitated the crate onto the floor. She pulled out a chair and seated herself, then put her wand away.

The expression her face was warm, and her brown eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Exactly how annoyed is Harry over my suggestion to throw an engagement party?” she asked.

Draco huffed out a breath of air.

A soft chuckle escaped with it.

“He isn’t annoyed at all,” he said.

The look on Molly’s face changed a little, and she grew a little more thoughtful. There was a sudden air of seriousness about her that Draco hasn’t seen before. Even the first time he’d visited the Burrow when Harry had officially introduced him as his boyfriend, Molly had been relatively relaxed, welcoming him with open arms and insisting on feeding him. Sure, she’d pretended to be a bit of a dragon, spewed a bit of fire, but she hadn’t seriously scared him. It took a bit more than that before Draco ran for the hills.

What he’d genuinely appreciated the most though was that she hadn’t fussed about his past, or held any of his bad decisions against him. Her complete acceptance of Harry’s and his relationship and the love they felt for each other had helped Draco to warm up to the idea of regular dinners at the Burrow.

For Harry, he wanted to be a part of the family that had adopted the love of his life and included him in their lives, showering him with unconditional love and affection.

“I pestered him about making an honest man out of you the night of Arthur’s and my wedding anniversary, you know,” she said.

Draco smiled.

“I know. He told me later.”

Molly chuckled softly.

She rose to her feet and retrieved her cup of tea from the kitchen, bringing with her a plate of freshly baked chocolate and raisin biscuits which she put down between them.

Draco couldn’t resist the positively intoxicating small of Molly’s exquisite backing, and he didn’t have to be told twice to help himself.

While he chewed on a large chunk of his biscuit and washed the soft cake down with a couple of sips of hot chocolate, Molly continued their conversation.

“That night he said he hadn’t thought about marrying you,” she said, “I thought it was a charade, but I let it go. I figured he had plans and didn’t want to interfere. In hindsight, I should have done the same about insisting that he throw a proper engagement party, but I got carried away, not that that’s an excuse.”

Acting on impulse, Draco reached out and placed his hand on top of Molly’s squeezing her slightly wrinkly hand softly, and decided to reassure her a little. He knew for a fact that Harry wasn’t in the least bit upset about Molly’s rather passionate suggestion to celebrate their recent engagement with a bang.

“You reacted just like any mother would have,” he said.

Molly smiled at him.

She pulled her hand away and drank a bit of her tea.

“You’re good for him, you know, Draco.”

Draco didn’t want to blush, but he couldn’t help it. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and coughing, he inspected the remaining half of his biscuit and silently counted all the raisins.

After a moment of silence, he took a deep breath and spoke again.

“Harry’s good for me,” he said.

He slowly dragged his gaze up and met Molly’s eyes. They shone with warmth and Draco felt oddly comfortable in her presence. She was a force to be reckoned with; he knew that much. After all, she’d been the one to dispose of his lunatic aunt, but that wasn’t what impressed Draco. Molly Weasley was driven by her unconditional love for her family and children, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. Much like Harry, really.

Every time Draco thought about how willingly she’d tried her hardest to include Harry in her family and make him feel welcome, to show him what a loving home looked like, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for the woman seated across from him.

He loved the way she loved Harry, fiercely protective, yet usually with the sense to give Harry enough space to live his own life. He loved the way Harry loved him. Harry’s love for him was unconditional, and the mere thought of that made Draco’s chest swell. It made him giddy, and it filled him with a sense of pride to know that despite all the wrong choices, he’d made in his youth, he had still managed to find someone who wanted him precisely as he was and with all his oddities and eccentricities.

“I can feel how much you love him.”

Molly’s words pulled Draco out of his own head, and he tried his hardest not to well up in front of her. It took a deep breath and several sips of hot chocolate to keep the tears at bay.

“Harry has this uncanny ability of making me a better person.”

Molly smiled.

“Draco, you made yourself a better person long before you and Harry got together.”

“Some people would disagree with that statement.”

Molly nodded.

She drank a bit of tea and reached for a biscuit.

“Some would,” she said, “but you know that it’s impossible to please everyone. There will always be a few people who envy you for how you’ve turned your life around and the achievements you made along the way.”

Draco hummed and bobbed his head.

He finished the last bit of his biscuit and washed it down with a large swig of hot chocolate. The intense taste of cocoa lingered on his palate, and he smiled to himself, then decided to strip away yet another one of his protective layers. Molly made him feel safe enough to do so; he had no qualms about showing her an imperfection or two.

“There are days when I’m sick and tired of having to prove myself again and again. Sometimes, it feels like each new case I take on is yet another hurdle I have to master to show everyone that I might be a Malfoy but that I’m not my father. Harry makes those days easier. He doesn’t even need to say or do much. It’s enough for me to know that I have his support, always and without question. The way he loves me means everything to me.”

Molly smiled and nodded.

“You both draw strength from each other, you’re open and honest, and you communicate. I cannot see this relationship going wrong anytime soon.”

Draco chuckled softly.

“Not under my watch, ma’am,” he said.

Molly laughed.

“Please tell Harry that he needn’t bother organising a dinner in London. We’ll celebrate with a bottle of champagne over a Sunday roast. We’ll keep it the way Harry likes it best, his closest family and Teddy.”

Draco shook his head.

“Nonsense, Molly, I know you love cooking, but for Salazar’s sake, take a night off. We’ll all dine out, have a couple of drinks and a few laughs together. Everyone will be happy and merry. I’ve already looked at a couple of restaurants.”

Molly gave him a somewhat apprehensive look.

“Draco,” she said, “Harry doesn’t have to do this for me. You and Harry aren’t the only two people who communicate, you know? Arthur has always been my voice of reason, even if it seems like I wear the trousers in this relationship. He and I had a very long chat. I got carried away; it’s a special talent of mine. I never learnt how to control my love for my children, and I don’t think I ever will.”

Draco felt his lips curl into a proper grin, the kind he couldn’t have prevented, not even with the help of magic.

“Don’t control it. I think your children love you exactly the way you are.”

Molly waggled her finger at him with an amused chuckle and a somewhat cheeky twinkle in her eyes.

“You certainly know exactly what to say, Draco Malfoy. My children hate and love me in equal measures,” she said, “but thankfully the grandchildren are still too young to judge me for being an overbearing mother hen.”

Draco laughed.

“Aren’t all mothers overbearing mother hens?” he asked.

Molly finished her tea, then slowly rose to her feet and tapped the side of her nose conspicuously, and as though she was about to share some highly confidential information with him.

“We are. Now shoo, back to work you Mr Prosecutor or whatever other pressing matters you’ve got to attend to. I’ve got to find some storage space for all these goodies and then head into the village to run a couple of errands before getting started on dinner. One would think that one the one day I don’t have a house full of screaming grandchildren, I might be able to put up my feet and read a bit, but there’s always clothing that needs mending or something else that needs doing.”

With a grin, Draco finished the rest of his hot chocolate, grabbed another biscuit and taking a heaty bite from it, he got up and pulled his robes back on.

“I’ll see myself out, Molly, thanks for having me.”

Molly waved her hand, dismissing his thanks.

“No need to act like a common guest, you’re always welcome in this house, Draco, you know that.”

Draco did know, Harry had told him often enough, but hearing Molly tell him directly, well, it filled him with a sort of warmth that felt far stronger and more powerful than any warming charm he could cast on himself to protect himself from the wintry chill outside.

His heart skipped a beat, and instead of overthinking, he let his instinct guide him into showing Molly a bit of affection. He pulled her into a brief hug which she reciprocated without the slightest bit of hesitation and as though the fact that they hugged each other goodbye was an everyday sort of occurrence.

Molly’s fierce embrace temporarily knocked all the air out of Draco’s lungs, and when she pulled back, he inhaled deeply, straightened up, and out of habit, he smoothed out his robes.

“Take care of yourself, young man. You mean an awful lot to Harry.”

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, Draco nodded.

“I will, Molly, thank you,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

He smiled, then resolutely headed for the door, pulled it open, and left.

Draco managed to get to the end of the path that led him away from the Burrow and back towards Ottery St. Catchpole.

At the forking, however, he stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder. The odd structure behind him was so crooked that he couldn’t help but wonder how the entire dwelling hadn’t collapsed yet. It seemed like the whole house was held together by magic; there was no other explanation to it. One needn’t be an architect to understand that magic was the only plausible reason.

Draco didn’t think anyone could compare the Burrow with Grimmauld Place, which he shared with Harry, or even Malfoy Manor, where he had spent his youth, but he also couldn’t deny that the cosiness of the Weasley residence had grown on him, though he was in no rush to admit that particular fact to anyone but himself. Not even to Harry.

He shook his head, and with a soft chuckle, he pulled his robes a little tighter around and began his short walk back into his village.

Night had already fallen, and the sky was pitch-black. Heavy clouds concealed most of the stars and temperatures had dropped even further. Draco shivered under his robes, lowered his head to protect his cheeks from the biting icy wind, and quickened his pace. Anything to get home faster.

He briefly thought about heading back to the Ministry to collect a couple of case files for his upcoming trial but dismissed the idea. He wasn’t in the mood for the detour. Work could wait until the morning. All he wanted was to go home; home to Harry. The prospect of that filled Draco with enormous anticipation. The butterflies in his stomach woke from their slumber and tentatively flexed their wings in silent approval of his decision.

“Home to Harry,” he mumbled to himself and pressed the tip of his thumb against his engagement ring, and gently rubbed the smooth and shiny metal. It was warm to the touch, and Draco relished in the feeling of rightness that flowed through him.

* * *

*****

* * *

“Can we talk?”

Harry looked up from the paperwork; he’d spread out all over the kitchen table, and smiling at Draco, who stood in the kitchen doorway, he put his quill down. Draco’s hair was tousled, and his cheeks were flushed and rosy from the cold outside. Harry wordlessly reached out and motioned for him to come closer.

He didn’t need to ask twice, Draco came willingly, and as he walked into the room, a radiant smile spread out over his face, and his silvery-grey eyes sparkled with joy. He looked positively delighted about the fact that he was home.

Pushing his chair back, Harry pulled Draco into his lap and sneaked his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling his ice block of a boyfriend closer. He took Draco’s hands and squeezing them softly; Harry channelled his magic and wandlessly produced a gentle warming charm, which he directed to slowly spread through Draco’s fingers into his hands and up along his arms until it reached Draco’s core. From there, Harry let it flow through Draco in time with his heartbeat. Draco hummed, relaxed further into his embrace, and Harry welcomed him.

“We can always talk, my little prince,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”

Draco lowered his gaze a little and pulling his left hand out of Harry’s loose grasp, he pressed it against Harry’s heart, letting it linger there.

Harry smiled.

He brought his hand up to cup Draco’s cheek and curling his fingers into Draco’s soft hair; he drew him in for a maddeningly slow kiss that sent a series of shudders through his little prince. Harry delighted in every single one.

Draco hummed against his lips, and Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. He let his teeth graze over the sensitive flesh and nipped at it, then traced Draco’s upper lip with his tongue, teasing it and provoking Draco into making the next move. Draco’s tongue met his, wordlessly inviting him into his own mouth. Harry slithered inside and deepened the kiss with practised ease. He squeezed Draco’s hip, pulled a tiny moan from the depths of Draco’s chest and swallowed it, then placed his hand on top of Draco’s left one. Harry felt Draco’s engagement ring press into his palm and smiled into their kiss.

_Mine_, he thought possessively.

They continued kissing until they were both desperate for air and Draco’s cheeks were flushed for an entirely different reason altogether.

“Not the kind of talking I had in mind but this works too,” Draco whispered into the small space between them.

His lips curled into a grin.

Harry chuckled.

“How did it go with Molly?” he asked.

Draco shrugged.

“We didn’t kill each other.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Like you two would,” he said.

“She made a big deal about the hamper.”

Harry nodded.

“I figured she would.”

“She accepted it, though.”

Harry smiled.

“Hm, she knows better than to reject my gifts, though it took me long enough to drill that message into her. I remember that one summer, about two years after Andy, Teddy, and I moved to Canada. I invited them all over, and when Arthur told her that I’d paid for everything and organised a cottage just outside Toronto for us all to stay in, she sent me the world’s longest Howler.”

Draco laughed.

“What did you do?”

Harry grinned.

“I sent her a Howler back.”

“And?”

The curiosity that sparkled in Draco’s eyes made Harry want to kiss him again and it took a considerable amount of restraint for him to temporarily fight against giving in to his own desires.

“They all came over for a month, and we never talked about it again. I’ve only stood up to her on a handful of occasions though, mostly I let her fuss. It isn’t that I don’t mind it or especially like it but―”

Harry broke off, and for a moment, he grew silent. He took Draco’s left hand into his own and toyed with the ring, twisting it around Draco’s fingers. The very first time he’d touched the ring, just after Hira had put the final touches to it, the metal had been cold, and the ring had felt lifeless. It had been just that, a ring, waiting for its rightful owner.

These days, however, it felt perpetually warm, as if by merely wearing it, Draco had breathed life into the ring, as if he’d allowed a part of his soul to ignite something buried deep inside the ring, an ancient sort of magic, perhaps, the kind that wasn’t easily understood. In Harry’s opinion, the embedded diamond and the two emeralds on either side of it sparkled differently too.

It wasn’t just the light that teased around the edges of each of the three gemstones and brought out their unique optical characteristics, but tiny little bursts of Draco’s magic. The brilliant white light that erupted from the centre of the diamond shone brighter than before, and its fire produced the most vivid rainbow flashes, Harry had ever seen. The scintillation of the emeralds was equally as intriguing for the pattern, and contrast between the bright and dark areas within the two stones seemed to vary depending on how Draco felt.

“It’s nice to have someone who fusses, isn’t it?”

Draco spoke, finishing his sentence before Harry managed to pull himself out of his own musings. He dragged his eyes away from Draco’s engagement ring and looked at him, then nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “it’s nice to have someone who will fuss. I like to imagine my mother would have fussed. Perhaps not quite in the same way but in some way.”

Draco grinned.

“What about your father?”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

“He’d have probably told me to do whatever makes me happy. He might have also tried to tell my mother to rein it in.”

Draco’s silvery-grey eyes twinkled.

“I don’t think your father wore the trousers in that marriage,” he said, “if you ask me, I think you inherited your proclivity for dominance from your mother.”

Harry snorted with laughter.

It was uncanny how easily Draco could make him snap out of moments like this, moments where he remembered his parents and got unreasonably sad.

“You know what, I think you’re probably right. From what I’ve heard, my father was a sasspot and a hothead. My mother, however, she was cool, calm, and collected. She was always in charge, always in control, until the very last moment.”

Before Harry had the chance to fully unlock the dark corner of his mind that contained the memory of the last few minutes of his mother’s life, Draco stopped him from pursuing that particular idea.

“So, really, she was everything you’re not, Gryffindork Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

“I have my moments,” he said.

He resolutely stepped out of that very dark corner of his mind and pulled up a much happier image, the one of his mother and father happily dancing around in circles in front of that stunning tiered stone fountain. They’d looked so happy in that photograph. Happy and carefree and in love. He remembered his mother’s beautiful dark-green velvet hat and how it had complimented her eyes, and he recalled the look of pure and unadulterated adoration in his father’s eyes. Draco looked at him in the same way.

“Which are?”

Harry pushed all memories of his parents away and focused entirely on Draco and the here and now.

He smirked.

“Oh, you know exactly what those moments are, my little prince, you live and breathe for them, my sweet one,” he said.

Draco’s pale cheeks pinked a little, and he smiled.

It was a shy sort of smile, the one he always reserved for Harry and times like this, times when Harry used this gentle, playful way to tease him into submission. The kind of submission where Draco was very much in control of the situation but consciously took a step back and allowed Harry in. It was intoxicating and heady, and Harry loved every second of it. He loved watching the way Draco’s eyes flickered and how he sweetly drew out the inevitable.

Harry traced the four steps it took to tie a figure-eight knot on a bight onto the back of Draco’s hand and smiled softly.

He waited and watched.

Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and Draco licked his lips with the very tip of his pale pink tongue.

A tiny shudder surged through him, and Harry felt it seep through his own skin and into his veins, leading to his heart skipping a beat.

“Sir―”

The word was more of a gasped whisper, and less of an actual spoken word and Harry wordlessly pulled Draco into a kiss, claiming his perfect wet lips for himself. He pulled Draco’s jumper out of his trousers and slipped his hand underneath, teasing the warm skin of Draco’s lower back and the base of his spine.

Draco shivered and wrapped both arms around his shoulder. He leant into him, and Harry instinctively pulled him closer. Draco’s fingers found their way into his hair, and while he played with it, Harry dragged his fingertips over the vast expanse of smooth pale skin that covered Draco’s back. He teased along his spine, grazed his skin with his nails and squeezed the soft flesh just above Draco’s hipbone. His grip wasn’t bruising or especially firm but it was still possessive and he felt Draco thrive underneath it.

Even though Harry wanted the kiss to last forever, it couldn’t, and before he lost all control and carried Draco upstairs into their playroom to make kinky love to him, Harry pulled away and pressed one tiny kiss to Draco’s swollen, red and glistening lips.

Draco gulped down a large quantity of air and stared at him. His pupils had widened, and his eyes had darkened. They were a smouldering, smoky shade of dark-grey.

“I’m scared, Harry,” he whispered into the small space between them.

Although he was heady with his own desire and want, Harry reined his thoughts in.

“What about?” he asked.

“The press finding out. They’ll bring up my past, and they’ll try their best to give you a hard time, just like they did when it first become public knowledge that we’re a couple. There’s a difference in us being together and us being engaged to be married.”

Harry smiled.

“You know, my love, your mother had this brilliant idea about how to stop exactly that from happening.”

Draco sighed.

He snuggled into Harry, and Harry let him.

“They’ll find a way around it, scrutinise my career, document every move I make in and out of court, anything. I don’t want to fight them; I’m tired of proving myself. I’ve done it since the end of the war.”

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s soft blond hair.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered.

Draco grudgingly lifted his head off his shoulder and opened his eyes.

Harry cupped his cheek and caressed it softly with his thumb.

“You’ve nothing to prove, Draco Malfoy. You changed a long time ago.”

“Yes, you know that. And they know that too. But the bad decisions of my past sell papers, just like me putting bad guys into Azkaban sells papers. When it suits them, I’m the reformed death eater, when it doesn’t, I’m the guy who turned Harry Potter gay.”

Harry laughed.

He let his hand slip to the back of Draco’s neck and tugged until Draco’s lips were close enough for him to press a lingering kiss to them.

“I hate to disappoint you, my love, but you’re not the reason I like dick, however, if it makes you feel better, we can pretend that your fine arse is the reason I lust after and can’t get enough of that gorgeous cock of yours.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Crude,” he said.

Harry grinned and winked at him.

“What’s crude about paying you a compliment? I like your cock; it’s pretty, most beautiful. It obeys me so sweetly too. It has a weakness for my tongue. It fits perfectly into my hand.”

Draco blinked and swallowed hard.

“Stop,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

“Make me,” he murmured, “make me stop, Draco Malfoy, make me stop praising every inch of that gorgeous body of yours. Make me stop if you don’t want to hear me wax lyrical about those sexy lips of yours wrapped around my cock while you’re on your knees for me with your wrists tied to your ankles. Make me stop if you don’t want me to go into raptures about rimming your hole and milking your prostate. Make me stop if you don’t want to know how much I get off on fucking that tight little arse of yours while you beg me to hold you down and make your mine.”

Harry paused and placed his hand on Draco’s knees. He pushed them apart, wedged his hand in-between and let it slide up the inside of Draco’s thigh, then cupped Draco’s rather prominent bulge and squeezed his growing erection through the layers of his clothing.

Draco’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he licked his slightly parted lips.

A soft and pleading whimper escaped them.

Harry gave Draco’s cock another squeeze, this one firmer and more possessive. He resolutely scrapped his chair a little further back and standing up, he pushed Draco across the room, pressing him against the kitchen counter. Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair again, dragged his fingernails over Draco’s scalp and then scratched a single nail down the line of Draco’s jugular vein, drawing a deep moan from Draco.

“Make me, Draco, make me stop. Tell me you don’t want this; tell me you don’t want me to claim what’s mine.”

Draco’s response was a whimper and buckle of his knees as they threatened to give away.

“Make me stop, Draco.”

“No, Sir.”

“Make me stop.”

“No.”

Harry smirked and sank his teeth into Draco’s exposed neck, sucking the flesh right above one of the most important blood vessels in Draco’s body.

Draco groaned.

Harry sucked harder; bit stronger.

Draco’s groan turned into a breathless scream.

Harry pulled away and soothed the bruised skin with the tip of his tongue, licking each tiny bitemark, he’d left behind. Draco shuddered in his arms.

With a smile, Harry took Draco’s face in his hands and held it steady.

Draco blinked, and it took him nearly a full minute before he was able to focus.

Harry waited patiently.

It was only once he was sure that he had Draco’s full attention that he spoke.

“You’re mine, Draco Malfoy. You’re my little prince; you belong to me. Every inch of that delectable body belongs to me, and that includes your heart, your mind, your sanity. You are mine, and I am extremely possessive, you know that. I don’t share, with no one, not ever, you know that too. You’re mine to love. You’re mine to take apart, and you’re mine to hurt. That pleasure is all mine. Mine, mine, mine. Nobody else has the right to hurt you, and if they try, they will have to answer to me, and trust me, my love, that won’t be a walk in the park for them. I show no mercy to those who harm the most precious thing I own.”

Draco blinked, and a lone tear rolled down his cheek.

Harry let it.

Instead of wiping it away with a tender brush of his thumb, like he usually did, he waited until it had reached the corner of Draco’s mouth, then kissed it away.

Draco shivered in his embrace.

“Be scared, we all are, but remember one thing, my love, you chose to trust me, and I proved to you, more than once, that I’m worthy of that trust. I won’t let anybody hurt you, that pleasure is all mine. They don’t know how you need to be hurt. They don’t know how to beat you just right. I am not above using my name to get what I want, Draco Malfoy. Nobody hurts the one I love; I won’t stand for it. You’re mine for as long as you consent to want to be mine which I really hope is forever. I will protect you always. I swear.”

A wretched sob fell from Draco’s lips, and Harry wrapped him in his arms, hugged him tightly and let Draco bury his face in the crook of his neck. Draco cried and shuddered and shuddered and cried, and Harry let him. He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbed his back and held him in his arms. Not once did he loosen his embrace. He whispered soft, reassuring words and sweet nothings and he let Draco have his moment. Harry didn’t tell him to stop crying, he didn’t laugh at him for being emotional, and he most definitely didn’t invalidate his fears and concerns.

A few minutes passed by before Draco calmed down and when he pulled away and straightened up a bit, Harry summoned a box of tissues from the living room. They flew into his outstretched hand, and placing the container on the counter beside them, he pulled out a soft tissue and dabbed at Draco’s eyes, cleaning his tear-stained face.

Draco blinked and smiled.

“Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true, do you know that, Potter?”

Harry grinned mischievously and winked at Draco.

“What me to show you just how bad I can be?” he teased.

Draco coughed.

“Er, no thanks, I think I know.”

“Pity, I’m sure I still have one or two tricks up my sleeve to knock you off your socks.”

“Keep them for the weekend?”

Harry chuckled softly.

“Playtime?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“With pleasure, my sweet little prince.”

“Can we stupidly romantic tonight?”

Harry laughed.

“Aren’t we always stupidly romantic?”

Draco shrugged.

“Let’s go over the top then.”

Harry smirked.

“Put on your best tux then, my little prince, I’m taking you out for dinner to the poshest and most expensive restaurant in all of London.”

“You won’t get a table.”

Harry leant in to kiss Draco.

“I’m Harry Potter,” he whispered against Draco’s lips, “watch me.”

Draco shivered, and when Harry pulled back, most traces of Draco’s earlier outburst had gone.

He smiled.

“Unless, of course, you’d rather stay in, share a bath, make pizza together and then eat in front of the television.”

Draco crooked his head slightly to the side.

“Would you feed me?”

Harry chuckled.

“Is that what my little prince wants?”

Draco nodded sheepishly.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” said Harry.

“Do we even have all the ingredients we need to make a pizza?” asked Draco.

Harry gave him another wink.

“Guess why I am home before you.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need to guess that, Director Potter. I bet that in an attempt to be all responsible and mature, you escaped a department head meeting or perhaps a briefing with Kingsley.”

Harry grinned and shrugged.

“We were running low on milk. I figured since you don’t function well without our morning cappuccino that ensuring your happiness was more important than being stuck in a boring two-hour meeting while the files on my desk continue to pile up until they reach unmanageable proportions.”

Draco laughed.

“One of these days you’ll get yourself into trouble.”

“Perhaps, but rumour has it that I’m dating the Wizengamot’s best prosecutor, so I’m not worried.”

“That rumour is outdated, Potter. You should pay a bit more attention to what they share over the grapevine. Recent rumours have it that you’re engaged to the Wizengamot’s best prosecutor.”

Harry chuckled.

“Is that so? In that case, I best make full use of my new rights as Prosecutor Malfoy’s husband-to-be.”

Without giving Draco a warning, Harry wrapped his arms firmly around Draco’s waist and picked him up.

Draco yelped and protested vehemently.

“Put me down, you brute!”

Harry paid him no heed.

Instead, he carried him out of the kitchen and slowly ascended to the third floor.

“You know, my little prince,” he said with an air of complete nonchalance, “spanking hurts more with a wet hand.”

Draco promptly fell silent and stopped struggling.

* * *

* * *


	34. Caleb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving all announcements for the closing chapter notes, so as to avoid spoilers.
> 
> I had not planned this chapter, I'd wanted to write something entirely different but Caleb, the absolute tosser, decided that he wanted to come out and play and once he'd made an appearance, Harry, of course, stabbed me in the back and sided with him. I tried to argue, but as you can see, I lost. Considering how this chapter turned out, I've no regrets.
> 
> Also, yes, I am unable to finish this story in 35 chapters so I have increased the chapter count to forty. There are a couple of loose ends to tie up before I'm ready to let these two go.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please do let me know what you think.
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Harry didn’t need to turn his head to know that the hand that had just grasped his shoulder belonged to Caleb, but he did so anyway, greeting his mentor and friend with a smile.

“Doesn’t often happen that you arrive earlier than me. Anyway, Potter, I hear congratulations are in order.”

Caleb’s grin stretched from ear to ear and Harry had just about enough time to set his Virgin Mojito down on the bar ― he still couldn’t understand why bartenders found it necessary to use excessive amounts of sugar to compensate for the lack of alcohol ― before Caleb pulled him into a strong, one-armed hug. It lasted only a few seconds, but it filled Harry with intense giddiness.

What with his and Draco’s roleplay, his drop forcing him to take a few days off work, and his and Draco’s very recent engagement, he hadn’t seen Caleb or had the time to speak to him. When Caleb had gotten in touch to ask whether he and Draco were free to join him and Stefan at the club, they’d exchanged a few messages, but Caleb wasn’t the kind of person who had important conversations over text. The was old-school, had always been, and preferred face to face; a trade Harry both admired and valued.

Way back when he’d first started to get interested in kink, he hadn’t been too bad at communicating ― Charlie had made sure to teach him ― but Caleb had really pulled out all the stops. It had been years since he and Caleb had last indulged in an all-nighter, mostly talking and sometimes mixing conversation with a few lessons on proper rope play etiquette and other things, but Harry still had fond memories of those early days.

Unsurprisingly, they also reminded him of how he’d gently helped Draco to navigate his way through kink, how they’d talked about different kinds of play and bondage, how he’d explained his desire to dominate to Draco, how he’d encouraged him to be bold and embrace his newly-discovered desire to give up control and submit, how they’d explored various toys and implements together, not necessarily using them but just learning and feeling, and how they’d discussed discipline, rules, needs and wants, but above all consent and safety. Sure, he’d encouraged Draco to read, to be bold and ask questions, and eventually to make friends at a munch, but all those late nights they’d spent, curled up together in each other’s arms, just talking, reminded Harry how awestruck he’d been of Draco’s bravery, his willingness to trust, and explore his desires―

“How are things?”

Caleb’s question, which he asked while pulling out an empty barstool opposite Harry to sit down on, dragged Harry back into the here and now, and he smiled.

“They couldn’t be better.”

Harry answered the question with sincere and intense conviction, with a part of his heart woven firmly into the words that had just left his mouth.

Caleb regarded him for a moment, piercing him with his bright blue eyes, and the intensity of his gaze left Harry feeling like he’d just been stripped naked. It was like Caleb was staring directly into his soul, reading between the lines, but Harry let it happen, welcomed it even ― it was beautiful to be seen, even if he felt vulnerable and exposed.

Eventually, Caleb agreed with an incline of his head.

“The beard suits you,” he said.

A rumble of laughter flew from Harry’s lips, and he made no attempt to rein in his emotions.

“You’re not the only one who thinks that, Reid.”

The dirty smirk that curled around Caleb’s lips was positively devilish.

“He’d be mad not to.”

Harry nodded.

“Gives me an excuse to indulge and satisfy my sadistic tendencies.”

Caleb snorted.

“Since when you do need an excuse for that, Potter?”

Harry shrugged.

“I don’t especially,” he paused to run his fingers over the spiky stubble of his beard ― he’d only trimmed it this morning ― and briefly thought about the last time he’d tortured Draco with it, rubbing the short, bristle hair all over his little prince’s most sensitive parts until he’d cried and repeatedly begged him for his release, “but it helps.”

Something truly wicked flashed through Caleb’s eyes.

Harry had no plans to share intimate details about his and Draco’s relationship with Caleb, but he didn’t need to.

Caleb understood.

He knew how to use a person’s obsession to turn them pliant and entirely powerless to resist the Reid’ charm. All his play partners talked about it, praised him for it, and while Harry had only seen glimpses of it, he didn’t need to see more to know how it worked. It was the sort of thing a good Dominant used to draw a submissive’s interest, to lure them in; a mixture of gentlemanly charisma, the promise to give pleasure, the silent assurance to deliver blow after blow, and strike after strike, of exquisite pain to further rouse allure, and the ever-present guarantee not to cross boundaries.

Harry used it to seduce Draco, to captivate all of his senses, and to spellbind him and keep him locked in the moment. His charm was a kind of sexual magnetism, Draco was entirely powerless against, voluntarily chose to be vulnerable against, and the thought of Draco melting under his touch, under his kisses, begging him for the pain he wanted and the release he craved, all the while trusting him to keep him safe, well, it sent Harry’s blood rushing south, gradually filling out his cock as it strained against the unforgiving material of his black jeans.

Caleb, seemingly sensing a change of topic was required, straightened up a bit and abandoned some of his exuberant banter.

Harry focused and reaching for his drink, he took a small sip, once again grimacing at the amount of sugar it contained. As he placed the glass back down on the bar, Caleb leant a bit closer. He reached out, and Harry felt him squeeze his forearm, lingering for just a moment longer than strictly necessary. The firmness of his touch conveyed all the things Caleb didn’t say; _I’m here for you, talk to me, I have your back, I believe in you, you are strong_.

“Your drop,” Caleb said, deliberately lowering his voice to keep the conversation between them.

There was a soft edge to his tone that, given the recent changes to his and Draco’s lives, Harry found a bit emotionally overwhelming, mainly because it acutely reminded him of how much Caleb actually cared about him and how he always made time for him. He took a huge deep breath and held it in for a moment before he decided that he was ready for a coherent response.

Just last week, he and Charlie had had a very long chat about it all, the scene he’d done with Draco, his subsequent drop, his recovery, the engagement, and his and Draco’s plans for the future ― they had yet to announce their decision to marry to the public.

It had been an utterly exhausting conversation; in part, because it had been a fire call, and in part, because Charlie had expertly taken him apart in a way that had left him feeling mentally drained. Much to Draco’s amusement, he’d slept for a full fourteen hours that night but had felt positively invigorated the morning after.

Harry snapped out of his reminiscence and focused on Caleb, acutely aware of the fact that he was still waiting for an answer.

“Draco, he―”

Harry paused for a moment and took another deep breath to handle the onslaught of memories that filled his head, all reminders of the enormous amount of strength Draco had shown and how incredibly supportive he’d been. His chest flooded with a stupendous amount of love for the man he’d asked to marry him and he let it consume him. It flowed freely, coursing through his body with every single beat of his heart. He swallowed past the lump of emotions firmly lodged inside his throat and cleared it with a quiet harrumph.

“He’s my rock.”

Caleb gave him a small smile. It was a knowing smile, accompanied by the sort of look that let Harry know he needn’t say more ― once again, Caleb understood.

Harry took another sip of his drink and strangely enough, this time he really didn’t mind the sweetness of the beverage but savoured both, the coldness of his Mojito and the crazy amount of sugar.

“Have you―? Did you ever―?”

“Dropped?”

Caleb finished his question for him and for a moment Harry felt a bit stupid for finding it challenging to say the word ― after all, it was just a word and his past had taught him, and many others, just how dangerous it was to be afraid of a name ― but then Caleb’s hand was on his shoulder and his grip was firm and reassuring.

“Yes, I have.”

Harry let the knowledge sink in, and as Caleb withdrew his hand, he breathed deeply and felt yet another weight, he hadn’t known he’d been carrying around with himself, lift off his shoulder.

“The first time happened back when I first started exploring kink. I was still with my ex-wife then. I don’t think I told you much about her…”

Harry shook his head.

“You mentioned her and your daughter that one time I barged into your house in the middle of the night, but we never talked about it after. I won’t deny, I am curious, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask.”

Caleb rolled his eyes.

“We’re friends, Potter, we have been for years. When have I ever given you the feeling that you can’t ask me whatever you want to ask?”

Harry gave Caleb an awkward chuckle and shrugged his shoulders.

“Never.”

“All that romance around the engagement messed with your head, didn’t it? Anyway, I might as well tell you about Calida, or Kelly, which is what I used to call her while we were married. She wasn’t my first girlfriend, but she certainly turned my head in a way nobody else had before―”

Caleb paused to laugh and waved towards the bartender, asking for a pint glass of cold, sparkling water.

“We married straight out of school, I was nineteen, she’d just turned eighteen. Why on earth our parents let us, I’ll never know. On the outside we were the typical vanilla couple, you’ll see walking down Oxford Street, holding hands, but at home, things were quite different. I liked it rough and I liked to tie her up, she had no problem with it. Half the time we didn’t know what the hell we were doing and Kelly was a feisty one and the only time she gave me an inch was when I put the cuffs on her, that’s when he was all sweet and bashful, saying _please, Sir_ and _thank you, Sir_. The first time I spanked her, I think it was about two or three years into our marriage, she practically goaded me into doing it.

“Since she was used to me picking her up and throwing her onto the bed or sofa, she didn’t mind when I did it then, except, that time I didn’t throw her onto the bed, I pulled her across my lap, yanked her panties down and spanked her so hard she cried bitter tears. Her arse was gleaming red by the time I was done, and even though we talked about it after, and she reassured me that she’d enjoyed it, that she’d wanted that kind of pain, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. All I saw was a monster, someone who’d smacked his wife around and enjoyed it too. I didn’t have a name for it then, but I dropped so fucking bad. I wanted to bloody well end it all. I was a young recruit with the fire brigade, running into burning buildings daily, and a few times I just found myself standing amidst the flames with the structure creaking around me and all I wanted to do was to tear my mask off, breathe in all that poison and die.”

Caleb paused to accept the pint glass of water from the bartender and brought it up to his lips, taking several large sips.

Harry wanted to reach out and squeeze his arm to reassure him, just like Caleb had done for him only minutes ago, but Caleb waved him off with a smile.

“I’m fine, Harry, it was a long time ago. I learnt from the experience. Anyway, one of my mates at the house, Rudy, may he rest in peace, well, he noticed I was severely off my game. After a particularly nasty shift, where he actually had to drag me out of the fucking building because I just froze, he invited me to join him for a couple of drinks after work. Naturally, I got completely shitfaced, and one thing led to another. I spilt my guts to him. I told him everything, what I’d done to Kelly and how I couldn’t look at myself. I cried like a baby, and wept and told him that I was going to turn myself in because Kelly refused to file charges for domestic abuse. Out of all the things he could have done, he laughed. He didn’t beat the crap out of me, he didn’t drag me to the nearest police station, and he most definitely didn’t tell the house, he just laughed, then told me to come with him. He brought me to this secret, underground dungeon.”

Caleb paused again and laughed at the memory.

It wasn’t an awkward or embarrassed laugh but one that was full of mirth and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

He raised an eyebrow at Caleb, willing him to continue his story.

“I swear, Potter, you’d have run from the place. I very nearly did. It was nothing like Pandora. It was nasty. I don’t know if it was the drink, the things I saw that night, or the fact that it was all a bit much, or a combination of all of that, but puked all over Rudy’s boots. He didn’t give a damn. Instead, he introduced me to Leila, his slave, then made me watch as she cleaned up my mess. With a towel, thank fuck. I went home to Kelly the next morning, in a complete daze. She was still in bed, fast asleep, and I sat down on the floor, dragged her into my arms and nearly crushed her, I hugged her so tight. I told her everything, and fuck, Potter, I’ll never forget the gleam in her eyes. The first words out of her mouth were her asking me to take me to that place. I refused point-blank. But I now had a name for what we were, Dominant and submissive, and I threw myself into learning as much as I possibly could. Getting information, it wasn’t as easy back then as it is now, but thankfully Rudy put me in touch with some amazing people and, well, you know the rest.”

Harry nodded.

“I do,” he said. “You met Charlie shortly after that. How did you handle your other drops?”

Caleb smiled.

“Far better than that first one. Kelly and I, we started playing with other people, exploring, having fun, learning, and in the beginning, I dropped a few times, but she was always there for me, ready to catch me. She was my Draco.”

“Why did you―?”

“Divorce?” Caleb asked with a chuckle.

Harry inclined his head.

“Kink, raising a child together, our respective careers, my desire to spent more time with men, our marriage. In the end, something had to give, Harry.”

Harry nodded in silent understanding. He didn’t pry; instead he changed the subject.

“C, do you have a trigger? Like, is there something that makes a drop more probable?”

Caleb bobbed his head, answering in the affirmative.

“Yes. I do. I’m more likely to drop if I play to cope with the stress of a major operation at work. Those are intense, and while a scene helps me to forget until I’m ready to start coping, with the exhaustion of it all, it’s highly likely that I’ll drop. Stefan knows, he can handle me when I do go down the nasty rabbit hole. When you’re leading an entire team, coordinating from the outside, and you’re responsible for so many lives and in a way you feel responsible for their families too, well, I need something extreme to offset the adrenaline rush from that but I seldom indulge myself; it’s too dangerous. I asked Stefan for a scene once or twice since we got together but we figured out that him curling up at my feet and letting me pet him while we talk about what the lifestyle means to us, helps just as much. The recovery from all that stress at work is slower but it’s safer in the long run.”

Harry smiled.

“I agree, it does. Draco and I did a lot of talking, not just about the scene and the drop, but also the D/s part of our relationship, and what it means to us.”

Caleb grinned.

“So much talking that you even popped the question, eh, Potter?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Hilarious, Reid, really. You can blame Charlie for that.”

“Why? Did he hold you at gunpoint and force you down on one knee to propose to Draco?”

“I’m tempted to throw this drink in your face, Reid.”

Caleb laughed.

“Please don’t, I didn’t bring a change of clothing. Now, out with it. We all knew that you were going to plight Draco your troth sooner rather than later, but why is big bad Charlie to blame?”

“He’s the instigator. The demon promised my godson a brand-new bro―”

Harry hastily cut himself off before he said the wrong thing. The last he wanted to do was to explain to Caleb why Teddy might want a broom instead of the latest video game or mobile phone.

“He promised Teddy a wicked new toy if Teddy got me to propose to Draco and apparently, I can’t deny my godson anything.”

Caleb crooked his head slightly to the side and arched a single eyebrow at him.

“Didn’t you already have the ring commissioned before that?” he asked.

Harry groaned.

“That’s beside the point. I had a plan. I was going to do it on Christmas Day in the morning. You know, breakfast in bed, a romantic speech, go down on one knee, pop the question, slip the ring on his finger, make love for the rest of the day…”

When Caleb held up a hand and gave him a look of pure disgust, Harry trailed off.

“Thank fuck for Charlie and your godson doing the right thing and knocking some sense into you, that idea sounds nauseating. Remind me to congratulate them both for their incredibly courageous act of saving Draco from all that nonsense.”

Harry furrowed his brows and glaring at Caleb, he defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Some friend you are,” he growled.

Caleb laughed.

“Save it, Potter. Like you’re not fucking pleased about not going all mushy on Malfoy. I suspect, your little snake would have run from the house screaming.”

Harry kept his arms crossed and continued to glower at Caleb, shooting deathly daggers at him.

“He likes it, you know?”

Caleb, thoroughly amused by his clear annoyance, merely sipped on his water and patted him on the shoulder.

“Likes what?” he teased.

“The mush,” Harry said.

Caleb chuckled.

“Who doesn’t, mate? Even I like a bit of romance, in small doses. Now stop getting your prick in a twist, I’m just messing with you, Potter. As always, it’s just way too easy to rile you up. I’ll give you a bit of space and go say hi to a few people.”

Caleb slid from his barstool, clapped him on the shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

“Wanker,” Harry muttered under his breath, although he didn’t mean it. He was grateful for everything Caleb had done for him over the years and the fact that he was always available, as a mentor, a good friend, a source of comfort, someone to cheer him up or simply a shoulder to lean on.

Sitting more comfortably and casually leaning back against the bar, Harry let his eyes drift around the room.

It took him less than a minute to locate Draco in the crowd. Even in the dim blue light of the club’s largest function room, Draco’s platinum-blond hair stood out like a beacon.

Harry let his gaze settle on Draco and watched him with a fond smile ― or the expression of a lovestruck fool, he wasn’t quite sure which description painted a more accurate word picture.

Draco had joined a small group of Stefan’s friends. One of them was in the midst of an animated demonstration of something or other, and Harry’s eyes shifted to the smooth grey collar, he’d fastened around Draco’s neck earlier, before they’d left.

He remembered the graceful way Draco at knelt at his feet, dressed only in a pair of his favourite black boxer briefs. They belonged to the large set with Harry’s claim on him magically stitched into the waistband ― _I belong to Harry James Potter_.

Harry shivered.

_Mine._

The thought entered Harry’s mind with such force that he felt it trickle down the length of his spine and pool low in his groin, renewing the heat he’d felt there earlier. He shifted on his barstool, tempted to palm himself through his jeans.

It was precisely then that Draco as if having sensed that he was being watched, turned his head and smiled. For a few seconds, Draco looked directly at him, then he averted his gaze and lowered his head a fraction. Harry swallowed hard and unconsciously tightened his grip on his drink.

And just like that, he was rock-hard with his cock straining against its confines, desperately wanting to get out, wanting to play.

_Mine._

The intense feeling of possessiveness lingered.

It stubbornly refused to subside, and when Draco lifted his head again, Harry used a simple hand gesture to beckon him over.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Draco immediately politely excused himself from his group of friends and strode across the room with an air of confidence that positively wrecked Harry in every possible way. He didn’t think his cock could grow any harder, but apparently, it could.

He licked his lips in silent anticipation, and when Draco approached him, he widened the gap between his thighs and motioned for Draco to stand between his legs.

Draco didn’t question him, didn’t even hesitate, but obeyed his command with the kind of grace that made Harry want to drag him into one of the nearby private rooms and break him. He wanted to show Draco exactly what his very public submission was doing to him, how it was affecting him, and how he barely managed to hang on to the last thread of his sanity.

However, instead of giving in to that particular desire, Harry settled for letting his hand rest low on Draco’s hip. He moved further to the edge of his barstool and squeezed Draco’s hip hard enough to pull a hiss from him.

Draco briefly turned his head to look at him, then lowered his gaze once more.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, and he gave Draco’s hip another squeeze. It was equally as possessive as the first one. He knew that Draco could feel his erection, could feel it press against his arse.

He remained entirely unfazed.

Instead, Draco casually rested a hand on Harry’s thigh, just above the knee, and Harry felt the body heat seep from the palm of Draco’s hand, through the thick fabric of his jeans, and directly into his skin. Draco didn’t squeeze or apply any other form of pressure, but Harry felt him relax into his proprietorial embrace, content with letting him have this moment, allowing him to be in control.

Harry sat up a little straighter. He let the heat of Draco’s hand burn him, let it spread through him, adding fuel to the fire in his groin.

Putting his drink down, he grabbed Draco’s other hip and pulled him an impossible inch closer.

He rolled his hips and dragged a small whimper from Draco’s slightly parted lips.

Harry slipped his hand underneath the hem of Draco’s black jumper and circled it over Draco’s hipbone. He brought his lips close to Draco’s ear, exhaled, and delighted in the full-body-shudder that surged through Draco.

“Want you, want to wreck you, want to make you mine, want to take you apart, want you, want you, want you so bad,” he murmured.

Draco trembled in his arms.

“Here? Now?” he whispered, his voice shaky and unsteady.

Harry nodded against his cheek.

“Yes,” he affirmed, breathing his answer directly into Draco’s ear.

Harry both heard and felt Draco inhale sharply and prepared to hear Draco say his safeword out loud. He silently counted the seconds until Draco objected.

“Harry―”

It was, on all accounts, a feeble objection, and much less than Harry had expected. He let both his arms slither around Draco’s waist and hugged him tightly.

“Hush, my little prince, I know you don’t want people to watch, I won’t make you.”

Draco didn’t voice his relief, but Harry could feel it. He kissed Draco’s earlobe tenderly and smiled against the sensitive skin.

“They’re going to start scenes soon. Kneel at my feet and watch one with me?”

Draco turned his head, and Harry loosened his hold on Draco just enough to allow him to turn in his arms. Draco did, and the moment they were face to face, Harry cupped Draco’s cheek and pulled him in for a tender kiss. Draco didn’t resist him and Harry pressed his lips against Draco’s. He captured them in a tender and loving kiss and felt Draco sigh. Harry pulled back, just a fraction, and locked eyes with Draco, holding his gaze with ease.

“Tell me honestly,” he whispered.

He watched Draco closely, watched the expression on his face, ready to read between the lines.

“I want to,” Draco said, with some hesitation.

“But?” Harry asked.

Draco lifted his hand ― Harry caught the slight tremor to it ― and wordlessly gestured around the room.

“Too many people?”

Draco’s nod was slight, barely noticeable, but Harry’s entire focus was on Draco. Nothing slipped past him when he blocked everything out in favour of giving Draco his full attention.

He smiled reassuringly.

“How about you sit beside me on the sofa then?”

“I― Would that― Is that―?”

Draco broke off and blushed, his cheeks turning crimson within seconds.

Harry squeezed his hip and caressed his flushed cheek softly, tenderly.

“Of course, my love,” he said.

It had been a while since he’d made a request that left Draco flustered and his heart skipped a beat as he realised how much he’d missed that very endearing quality. He slid off his barstool and reaching for Draco’s hand, he took it and held it so that his thumb was firmly pressed against the pulse point of Draco’s wrist.

“Come with me?”

He posed his command as a question, and Draco lowered his head ever so slightly.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

He cupped Draco’s chin, pushed it up and kissed him softly.

“Later, tonight, the playroom. I’ll have a special treat for you, my love.”

Draco’s eyes widened in an instant.

“Will you―?”

Harry clicked his tongue and Draco fell silent.

“If you’re good, my little prince, only if you’re good,” he simply said.

The look in Draco’s eyes told him everything he needed to know ― _I’ll be so good for you, Sir, I’ll be really, really good_.

He chuckled softly under his breath and making his way through the crowd of people, he pulled Draco along with him to a free two-seater sofa that offered an excellent view of the play space. He sat down, sank back into the covers, and throwing one leg over the other, he patted the empty space next to him.

“Come sit with me, my little prince.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then sat down.

Harry wrapped an arm around him, and pulling him close, he pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.

“My precious,” he murmured, “you’re so good for me already.”

Draco made a soft keening noise and turned his head to look at him from under lowered lashes.

“Sir―”

“Hm, yes?”

Draco dithered for a few seconds, and his cheeks flushed anew.

Harry smiled.

“What is it, my little prince? Tell me.”

Draco briefly looked down at his chest, and Harry noticed how his eyes caught the silver necklace with the D-pendant. Usually, Harry wore it underneath his clothes, but today, just before leaving, he’d decided to put it on display. It complimented his green jumper perfectly.

“After the scene starts― When everyone’s looking at the place space― I want― I want― I want to try.”

Harry brushed a stray strand of hair out of Draco’s face and traced the shell of Draco’s ear with his index finger. He felt Draco shiver beneath his soft and teasing touch and smiled.

“Try what?” he asked with an arched eyebrow and a devilish glint in his eyes.

Draco swallowed hard.

“You know― what you asked me earlier…” he answered, evasively.

Harry smirked.

“And what did I ask you, my little prince?”

Draco’s eyes wandered to the space in front of Harry’s feet, then back to his face.

Harry clicked his tongue.

“We have rules for a reason, my little prince. When you want something, you’ve got to tell me what it is.”

Draco gnawed at his bottom lip.

He dragged it into his mouth and worried it with his teeth.

Harry clicked his tongue again.

He shook his head, and bringing his hand up, he placed his thumb on top of Draco’s lower lip, effectively stopping him from continuing to chew on it.

“Say it, my little prince,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging.

Draco’s cheeks pinked, and his eyelids fluttered as if he couldn’t decide whether to keep his eyes open or close them in resignation.

Harry watched him fight his internal battle and after a minute, sensing that Draco needed help, he interrupted, cupped Draco’s face and with that simple gesture, that tiny bit of physical reassurance and support, he got Draco to focus on him and what he asked him next.

“Do you want to kneel for me?”

Draco’s cheeks turned a shade darker, and he nodded.

Harry shook his head.

He gently tapped his finger against the collar around Draco’s neck, subtly reminding him of it and the rules that came with wearing the snug-fitting grey leather band.

“Answer my question,” he said, this time with a little more zest to his voice.

Draco swallowed hard.

“Yes, I do― Sir.”

Harry smiled.

He brushed his thumb over Draco’s cheek, running it along the outline of his sharp cheekbone and drew him close for a kiss.

“My brave little prince, well done, you’re such a good boy,” Harry murmured the words against Draco’s lips, knowing fully-well what effect they were having on him.

This time, the reason Draco’s cheeks turned crimson wasn’t because he was embarrassed but rather because Harry had praised him.

“When the scene starts. In your own time and only if you’re ready and for as long as you’re comfortable. I won’t judge you, no matter how long or how short you can last. Do not push yourself beyond what you’re ready for, clear? You will not like the conversation that will follow.”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“You’re my good boy,” he praised.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, careful not to mess it up too much, then pressed another kiss to his soft lips.

Draco gave him the sweetest smile and something fierce clenched around Harry’s heart, holding it in a vice-grip.

_Mine._

He pulled Draco into his arms, snuggling with him for a good twenty minutes until the lights in the room dimmed further and the chatter all around them slowly died down.

In the centre of the play space, several of the BDSM furniture had been moved to the side, leaving ample room for a circular stage. It was slightly raised to give everyone an excellent view of the scene that was about to start. A moment later, a floodlight illuminated the stage, and the first of many eighties’ tunes filled the room. A woman, wearing a loose black dress and black high-heeled shoes, stepped onto the stage and bowed to the audience.

It only took Harry a moment to recognise her as Tifereth, a magnificent rigger with a creative approach to harness construction. Her genuine love for Shibari and her dynamic style of sadism which she conveyed through engaging, hands-on methods of performance continually blew his mind away.

Harry glanced around the room, looking for Caleb and managed to seek him out just as Tifereth toed her shoes off and kicked them off the stage.

Caleb gave him a lopsided grin and mouthed two words that set Harry’s heart on fire: _Happy Engagement!_

Harry held his breath for a moment.

Had the absolute tosser really―

Caleb answered his question with a nod.

Yes, he fucking had.

Harry had no idea how Caleb had managed to get in touch with his favourite kinkster, but he didn’t feel like he had to mental capacity to truly process the level of Caleb’s dedication to him as a friend and mentor.

He swallowed hard and glanced at Draco. His little prince had kicked his shoes off, much like Tifereth had done just moments ago, and pulled his feet up onto the sofa, curling them underneath his body. Draco’s head was resting on his chest, but his attention was on the stage.

Harry followed his gaze and watched and listened as Tifereth welcomed her submissive, for the evening, which she introduced as Eirwen, a name that complimented the fair-skinned, dark-haired woman beautifully.

Eirwen was dressed in a white spaghetti top that was almost transparent and left little to the imagination.

A floaty white skirt, equally as pellucid as her top, billowed around her bare legs. Harry observed as Tifereth leant in and whispered something into Eirwen’s ear.

He smiled.

He knew exactly what she’d asked. He’d whispered the words often enough right before the commencement of a scene.

_I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. Trust me. I’ll take care of you. Are you ready to play?_

Eirwen gave a nod in silent affirmation, and when Tifereth placed her hand on Eirwen’s shoulder, she gracefully sank down and knelt in front of her rigger. She sat, on her haunches, facing the audience, but kept her head, eyes closed, slightly lowered and her hands rested, palms down, on her thighs.

It was precisely then that Draco dragged his eyes away from the stage, lifted his head and looked at him.

His silvery-grey eyes were crystal-clear and shone with a kind of desire and longing, Harry usually only saw in them when they were alone at home or inside their playroom.

He reached out and caressed Draco’s cheek tenderly and smiled.

“I’m ready, Sir.”

Draco whispered the words into the small space between them, and Harry drew him in for a brief kiss. He lingered a moment, then pulled back.

“Kneel for me, my little prince.”

Harry felt the shudder that surged through him, and he watched, with breathless awe, as Draco elegantly unfolded himself, and slid off the sofa. He gracefully knelt beside Harry’s leg, his side pressed up against it for comfort, and Harry sat forward. He placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder, let his thumb rest against the back of Draco’s collar and applied a bit of pressure.

“Perfect, my little prince,” he whispered.

Draco hummed, and Harry felt the noise rather than heard it.

“Enjoy the show, my precious, this is Caleb’s engagement present for the two of us.”

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tifereth (["website"](https://www.stringtheoryshibari.com/)) is a rigger I fell in love with when my Domme introduced her art to me a couple of months ago. She's got a truly magnificent and breath-taking style. You can find her on Twitter, ["@Bed_Raptor"](https://twitter.com/Bed_Raptor/).
> 
> ["Tifereth and Joan Von Brook- Rope Spirit X"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOGIjzG9m6M&t=1s) has got to be my most favourite performance by Tifereth, a memory of watching it inspired part of this chapter.  
**PLEASE NOTE**, the video contains a live rigging performance which some people may find triggering, proceed with caution. K, don’t want watch it.
> 
> Eirwen is a Welsh name composed of the elements "Eira" (snow) and "Gwen" (fair, holy, white) hence "Snow White". I found the name fitting, given the description I gave of the woman.


	35. Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I type this, my other half is on a plane, travelling halfway across the world to come and see me. She's arriving tomorrow and I've waited for this day for months. While she's here, I'll be taking a bit of a break from writing to spend a bit of quality time with her.
> 
> But, I did want to start my break with a bang so I'm leaving you with >9K worth of LPK2 goodness. I might manage a sneaky chapter while my girlfriend is here, but I'm not making any promises. Since I only have her for a month, I want to put her first. When she returns to Europe, which she sadly will have to do, I'm going to most likely feel the need to drown myself with writing to stop myself from missing her too much.
> 
> Anyway, enough of my private life, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Much love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Draco took a deep breath and climbed the last stair up to the fourth floor of Grimmauld Place. He swallowed down the bout of nervous energy that flared up in the pit of his stomach and let his gaze travel down the length of the corridor.

The door to the playroom stood open and warm golden light spilt out from it, glimmering and glittering brighter and more splendid than Draco had ever seen. It drew him in, pulled him closer, and he followed its silent call. His footsteps were soundless on the carpeted floor, and he concentrated on the softness of the thick woven fabric beneath his bare feet, rather than anything else.

Despite his slow and measured pace, Draco reached the room in no time and raising his hand up; he let his fingers trail over the dark and smooth polished wood of the doorframe and drew out the inevitable for just a moment longer. He was on edge, but he wasn’t afraid, or perhaps he was, but not enough to turn around and run. The fear he felt drew him towards Harry, lured him into his lair, made him crave the absolution Harry could offer him.

_I have a choice; I always have a choice_, he reminded himself, not because he really needed to, but because he liked to.

The nervous energy from earlier had spilt forth from his gut and mingled with his magic. He could feel it thrum through his veins to the steady beat of his heart. It made his skin tingle and heightened his level of excitement. Draco pressed his lips together, briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. He held the air inside of him for several seconds, then exhaled slowly through his mouth, relaxing a tiny bit. It wasn’t enough to settle him, but it was a start.

To feel thoroughly settled and secure, he needed Harry’s verbal reassurance.

He needed the velvety sound of his soothing voice, the low and husky vibrations of it.

He needed words; whispered directly into his ear, spoken for the sake of his mental welfare and his alone; words that were more powerful and more binding than the most potent magic, words capable of sending shudder after shudder through him, words that focused him, settled him, prepared him.

He needed Harry to promise him to keep him safe almost as much as he needed to breathe.

He needed Harry’s touch; the softness of his fingertips, trailing along his cheekbones, teasing his lips, and the sharp line of his jaw.

He needed that tender, lingering kiss to the side of his neck just before Harry wrapped a collar around his neck and sealed it with magic, staking his claim, owning him, silencing his thoughts and pulling him into a world where his entire being ― his body, his soul, and his mind ― belonged to Harry.

Draco lifted his fingers away from the frame, hesitated for a split-second, then curled them against his palm to form a loose fist, and with a firm _rat-tat-tat_, he knocked.

“Sir.”

The word fell from his lips with practised ease and a distinct lack of embarrassment ― he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember the last time he’d felt mortified over addressing Harry as his superior, his Master. Draco felt a small part of himself anchoring itself firmly in the here and now and made that the central point of his attention.

Then Harry turned around, and brought face to face with the one man that had the power to bring him to his knees with a single, muttered word, Draco felt his entire world unravel. It spun out of control, and there was absolutely nothing he could or wanted to do about it. He tried to focus on the one thing he was most experienced in, and concentrated on his breathing, on the steady rise and fall of his chest as his lungs filled with air, supplying his body with a regular flow of oxygen.

“Come in.”

Just two words, spoken quietly, but with a deliberate firmness to them that Draco liked to compare to the irresistible pull of a summoning charm. They were both, an invitation and an order, and Draco stepped over the threshold and into the room.

In an instant, he felt calmer, more relaxed, at ease, and no longer needing all of his focus to remember how to breathe, Draco allowed himself to concentrate on Harry and promptly felt his knees buckle, threatening to give away.

Harry was barefoot, dressed only in a pair of washed-out jeans that sat low on his hips. There was absolutely no doubt in Draco’s mind that Harry wasn’t wearing any underwear, had chosen to go commando. To make matters even worse, Harry was naked from the waist up and with so much tanned and taut skin on display, Draco felt his mouth water.

_Sadistic bastard_, Draco thought.

Harry knew how to play his cards right, knew how to make him want to fall apart long before they’d even started.

The tips of Draco’s fingers tingled and itched, incessantly taunting him, reminding him that he could look but, unless he asked politely, he wasn’t at liberty to touch, and even then, being given the green light wasn’t a guarantee.

However, the fact that he didn’t have permission did nothing to curb Draco’s desire and the aching need he felt growing in the centre of his chest. If anything, it only made him crave it more, but he controlled the urge, suppressed the impulse to transgress.

His determination to be good for Harry, to obey the rules and earn Harry’s praise, was stronger, and Draco focused on that, let it consume him.

Still, he desperately wanted to reach out and slowly run his fingers up the entire length of Harry’s muscular arms.

He wanted to feel those hard, sinewy biceps to flex underneath his gentle, exploring touch.

He wanted to feel the prickly stubble of Harry’s impeccably trimmed beard against the palm of his hand, scratching him, driving him wanton.

He wanted to feel Harry’s scars, wanted to trace them all, wanted to kiss them.

He wanted to bury his face in Harry’s neck and inhale his scent until he was heady with it.

He wanted to feel the outline of every single bone of Harry’s spinal column.

He wanted― so much.

He wanted― everything.

Draco licked his suddenly dry lips and dragged his gaze up to meet Harry’s.

The devilish smile that curled around Harry’s lips told Draco that Harry knew.

For Harry, he was an open book.

His chest suddenly felt too small to contain his aching hunger, and Draco felt it spill over, felt it spread through him, felt it trickle down his spine, felt it pool low in his groin, igniting a different kind of want, a different type of heat. It was intense and captivating, and when Harry extended his hand, silently inviting, ordering him to step further into the room, Draco didn’t hesitate.

He let Harry’s pull guide his steps, surefootedly walking over to him and gasped when Harry’s fingers clasped around his wrist.

Harry’s grip was firm, possessive, but it didn’t hurt.

Draco felt Harry’s thumb press against his pulse point, felt it circle over and around it, and latched on to the intensely familiar touch, let it wash over him.

Harry’s magic flowed through him, and Draco shivered. It wasn’t a spell; it was just Harry’s magic, in its pure, undiluted form. It was intoxicating, thrilling, arousing, and Draco felt heady with it.

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and gnawed on it, though not because he was nervous or couldn’t find the right words to tell Harry what he wanted. When Harry clicked his tongue and shook his head to tell him no, he stopped at once.

Harry smiled.

It was a warm smile, one that held an unspoken promise of love, and Draco allowed himself to hope that Harry might just―

“Good boy.”

Draco shivered.

He didn’t even try to stop the breathy mixture between a moan and a soft hum that fell from his slightly parted lips. Fiery heat rose into his cheeks and his knees buckled with the electrifying rush that surged through him.

Harry pulled him a little closer, and Draco felt his arm slither around his waist. He let himself be drawn into the embrace, and when Harry kissed him, he closed his eyes and surrendered to it. It wasn’t an exceptionally long kiss, and it wasn’t fuelled by feverish passion, but it was enough. It was precisely what Draco needed to make him feel sheltered, secure, and stable.

“There, there, I’ve got you. You’re safe with me, my little prince.”

Harry’s whispered words of comfort wrapped themselves around him like a security blanket, and when Harry cupped his cheek and caressed it, Draco pressed into the touch. He forced himself to open his eyes and stared directly into Harry’s vivid green eyes. They were full of love and trust, dazzled him with sensuality, and sizzled with an all-encompassing passion that made it sheer impossible to focus on anything but Harry.

Right this very moment, Draco’s entire world revolved around Harry; he was the only thing that mattered.

Right this moment, Harry was in charge; he controlled the scene; he called the shots.

Draco knew he could trust him; he didn’t have to make any decisions because Harry knew what he was doing. He didn’t have to hold himself together. He could drop his protective mask and just be.

The longer he stood there, anchored in the moment, and just felt ― felt Harry’s thumb circling over his pulse point, felt the back of Harry’s hand brush over his cheek, felt Harry’s fingertips trail down the side of his neck, the length of his back, felt Harry give his hip a firm squeeze ― the more Draco could feel the tension of the last few days seep from him.

It didn’t matter that the Prophet had run the official announcement of their engagement as frontpage news.

It didn’t that Harry had been forced to adjust the wards on their home and restrict the delivery of their mail to the Ministry’s post room.

It didn’t matter that his office was cluttered with vase upon vase of congratulatory flowers and that his incoming mail tray was overflowing with cards from well-wishers.

It didn’t matter that some of those cards probably contained hate mail.

It didn’t matter that he was on edge, perpetually high-strung, and quick to lose his temper.

It didn’t matter that he’d snapped at Harry every morning this past week.

It didn’t matter that―

Harry gripped his hip harder, squeezed with enough force to leave a bruise behind and even as Draco hissed at the sudden and intense pain, he allowed it to consume him. He didn’t fight it, and as a reward, the turmoil inside his mind quietened down.

“Ready to play, my little prince?”

Draco didn’t even have to think.

The answer to Harry’s question was on the tip of his tongue in an instant.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“Good boy.”

Draco felt his cheeks flush anew.

He relished in the way Harry’s praise affected him, revelled in it.

The door to the room fell closed, and the lock clicked into place.

Once upon a time, that sound had terrified him, and he’d felt trapped.

Now, he felt free to let go, to pursue his release, to surrender himself to Harry, to submit to his commands, to please him.

Harry rewarded with another kiss.

This time he lingered for longer, teased Draco’s lips with the tip of his tongue, and even pushed past them and into Draco’s mouth.

Draco welcomed the kiss, lost himself in it and in the thrill of letting it all happen.

When Harry pulled away, he whined, wanted more, but knowing he wasn’t going to have it his way; he resisted chasing after it.

“Strip.”

The command was a familiar one, and Draco didn’t hesitate to obey. He momentarily sorely missed the warmth of Harry’s touch, but quietly walked over to the empty chair that stood next to the door and began to unbutton his shirt. He let it slip off his shoulders, and undid the buttons at the cuffs with steady hands, then folded the shirt and placed it neatly on top of the wooden chair. Next, he popped the button of his tailormade grey chinos, pulled the zipper down, and gracefully stepped out of them.

He could feel Harry’s eyes on him, could feel the intensity with which they burnt into his skin, and the underlying, unspoken desire. He knew that Harry’s eyes trailed over every single ridge of his body, traced every imperfection and devoured it all.

The hunger inside him intensified, and the low pressure that had been pooling in his groin increased. His cock filled out, strained against his black boxer briefs and Draco licked his lips in silent anticipation. Considering that Harry had already edged him for nearly a week, it didn’t take much for him to get hard. He tried not to think about Harry denying him his release time and time again. He’d begged and pleaded, but Harry had remained firm, hadn’t even batted an eyelid, and he’d been forced to watch as Harry had taken his pleasure, luxuriated in the aftermath of orgasm after orgasm, without being allowed a release of his own.

Draco inhaled sharply and folded his trousers, then placed them on the chair in front of him. He was tempted to press his palm against his hard cock, but with Harry’s eyes on him, watching his every move, he didn’t dare to disobey. He swallowed a frustrated sigh, stripped off his last piece of clothing, and hissed when his cock sprung free and bobbed in the coolness of the room, begging for attention. Draco ignored it. Instead, he folded his underwear just as neatly and placed it on top of his trousers, then turned around and slowly walked back over to Harry.

Once he stood in front of him, Draco gracefully dropped to his knees and moved his hands behind his back, resting them against his lower back, just above his arse. He didn’t sit back on his haunches.

Harry gripped his chin firmly, then bent forward to kiss him.

“My perfect little prince.”

Draco let the praise wash over him, basked in the warmth of the murmured words, and hummed softly.

He watched as Harry waved his hand, and the room instantly felt warmer. The soft tendrils of Harry’s wandless, non-verbal warming charm flowed over Draco’s naked body, and he shuddered, not because he was cold, but because the way Harry cared for him, and made his comfort a priority, turned him on. It made him feel loved and treasured like he was Harry’s most prized possession, and Draco savoured the feeling.

A moment later, Harry’s fingers were in his hair, massaging his scalp, and Draco whimpered softly.

“My precious one, I’ll take it all away, I promise you,” Harry whispered.

He retrieved Draco’s collar from the right pocket of his jeans, and when the smooth leather wrapped itself around his neck, Draco instantly felt lighter, like a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

_I belong to you, Sir._

The thought swirled around his head, and a smile curled around his lips.

Harry traced an ancient rune onto his shoulder blade and murmured the incantation that locked the collar into place.

“There, all mine now,” Harry said and gave him another kiss.

Draco desperately wanted to touch the collar, wanted to feel it beneath his fingertips, but didn’t remove his hands from behind his back.

“Stand up.”

He followed Harry’s command and rose to his feet.

Harry briefly cupped his cheek, traced the line of his cheekbone and then dropped his hand.

Draco felt the loss like a stinging blow to his arse, but he pressed his lips together and forced himself not to beg, not to ask for more affection, not just yet anyway.

Harry took a step back, and Draco felt the way Harry devoured him with hungry eyes. He felt exposed, open, and vulnerable, but instead of trying to hide, or turning away, he let Harry look.

And Harry looked.

Without inhibition, without restraint, and without shame.

Draco felt loved and wanted and desired.

A tremor surged through him when Harry dragged his index finger down the length of his spine, then went back to admiring him from afar.

The longer Harry looked, the longer he didn’t touch, the more Draco wanted it, craved it, desired it, and the less he managed to restrain himself, to resist the urge, to―

“Please.”

He let the feeble plea fall from his lips and shuddered when Harry’s arms circled him from behind and wrapped themselves tightly around his midriff, squeezing, holding him in place. He felt Harry’s erection, it dug into his arse, teasing him, letting him know what was there, what he couldn’t have, not yet, if at all.

“Please _what_? And please _who_?”

Draco shivered.

Harry’s breath was hot on his neck.

He nipped at his earlobe and Draco whimpered.

“You know better than to beg me like that. What do you want, my little prince?”

Harry traced the shell of his ear with his tongue, then toyed with his lobe, sucked it into his mouth and bit down on it.

Draco moaned.

_Fuck_, he thought but clamped his mouth shut, not allowing the curse to escape.

“Touch me, Sir,” he breathed.

Harry chuckled.

The warm rumble of laughter so close to his ear gave Draco goosebumps, and he curled his toes against the heated wooden floor beneath his feet but didn’t dare shuffle.

“I think―”

Harry nipped at his neck, right above his jugular vein.

“You’ll find―”

Another nip.

“That―”

Nip.

Draco’s knees buckled.

“I am―”

Nip.

“Touching―”

Harry bit and sucked hard.

Draco curled his toes further and cried out as the pain of Harry’s harsh assault on his neck flooded through him.

“You.”

Harry finished by pressing a lingering kiss to the love bite he’d just left on Draco’s neck, and Draco exhaled.

He felt Harry’s hand rest just above his stomach, felt his fingertips toy with the fine dusting of blond, trimmed hair and desperately wanted to drop to his knees.

“What kind of touch is it you’re looking for, my little prince?”

Harry squeezed him tighter, and Draco swallowed hard.

He didn’t have the words to express himself, and Harry knew that.

That was why Harry was fucking with his mind.

He was, quite deliberately, being a rotten tease.

“No answer?” Harry asked.

Another bite followed and this time Draco’s knees gave away, but Harry had an iron grip on him and didn’t allow him to fall.

“My little prince, do you perhaps need a bit of a spanking to loosen that tongue of yours?”

Draco groaned.

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

The stinging blow to his arse came without warning, and Draco gasped.

The pain was intense and burnt through him, but Draco felt himself blossom in response to it.

“Try again.”

Draco squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled deeply.

“I― Sir, please. I need you to touch me. I want― I need your hands, hold me, please, Sir.”

Harry pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and Draco felt his stubble, felt the prickly spikes digging into his skin and sighed.

Yes.

“I will touch you, my little prince, of that you can be sure. I will touch every inch of you, I will hold you, I will thrill you, and I will kiss you until you’re breathless, begging me for more. I’ll take such good care of you, my little prince, my sweet, precious boy.”

Harry’s words were more than just words, they were a promise, and Draco relaxed into them. He allowed them to travel all over him and willed them to wrap themselves around his body. They wormed their way into his mind, took possession of it and unravelled him, bit by bit, piece by piece. Harry’s grip was tight; it was a proprietorial claim on his body.

Draco briefly thought of the marks; Harry had already left on his body and felt a wave of excitement wash over him at the thought that he’d be able to look at himself in the mirror later and inspect each and every single bite and bruise. He treasured them. They meant everything to him. They were Harry’s marks and Draco wanted them, all of them.

Harry gradually loosened his hold on him, and Draco focused and willed his legs to remain steady. It was a while before Harry completely let go of him and Draco felt inexplicably pleased about his ability not to dissolve into a pile of goo. He breathed deeply, calmly, slowly, and waited. Harry stepped away from him, then walked across the room to retrieve a black holdall from the red leather sofa.

Draco watched, silently and with anticipation, as Harry dropped the bag onto the floor, and crouched down to unzip it. He took out four neatly folded coils of exquisite black rope, then stood up and flicked his hand. A moment later, the unfamiliar tunes of a pop song filled the room, and Draco focused on the strange but steady beat. It thrummed through him, and he waited, patiently, while Harry prepared the rope.

He handled it with practised ease, though Draco had expected no less, and once he’d found the bight of the rope, he stepped closer.

Draco stood perfectly still, eagerly waiting to feel the rope against his skin, to be turned into a work of art, Harry took pleasure in creating and then admiring.

Harry gave him a knowing smile, caressed his cheek, then told him to raise his arms above his head.

Draco did, without hesitation or question.

He shivered when Harry scraped his fingernail down the length of the inside of his arm, running it over the faint remnants of his Dark Mark, the crook of his elbow, then straight down to his armpit. Since it tickled, part of him wanted to flinch away from the touch, but he resisted, and simply let the feeling wash over him.

* * *

*****

* * *

Bondage rope in hand, Harry started to create a chest harness that, once finished, would hug Draco as tightly as he had done only moments ago. He took his time to ensure that the rope sat just right and that every knot was in its proper place, exactly where it belonged.

Along the way, he made sure to brush his fingertips along Draco’s naked skin as often as possible, knowing it gave his little prince a rush, knowing he craved the touch. He stopped every now and then to give Draco the one or other kiss, to caress his cheek, or to simply check in with him, and make sure that he was doing alright. He did it in part to continue to distract Draco from the tumult of the last week, but mostly because it simply was the right thing to do; it was safe and sane.

Harry let the rope run through his fingers, careful not to accidentally smack Draco with the rope endings, and then stepped around to stand behind Draco. He started at the lower back, looped it around and followed the direction of the rope, then began to knot; under, over, under over. Harry expertly wrapped the rope around Draco, around his waist, his midriff, his chest, and over his shoulders, underneath his arms.

While working away, he moved around Draco but kept in constant contact with Draco’s body. He occasionally repositioned him slightly, gently tapped his thigh, got him to widen his stance a little, ran yet more rope between his legs, and checked that the rope sat precisely where he wanted it to rest. Harry let the rope surround Draco’s cock and balls, but didn’t tie his private parts into the harness.

He positioned the rope so that it ever so slightly cut into Draco’s skin, wanting him to be able to feel the tightness of it, but ensured that his complete focus was on Draco and his wellbeing, his safety.

At this very moment in time, nothing else mattered to Harry; nothing was more important. He was in his zone, concentrating on the rope running through his hands, the knots he tied, and the way Draco reacted to the ever-increasing level of tension.

Each time he tied another knot, Harry ran through a mental checklist in his head, checking the rope’s tension, making sure that Draco was still able to keep his arms stretched out above his head, that he had a firm stance, and wasn’t about to lose his balance and fall. He made sure not to compress any nerves or create tension where he didn’t want there to be any tension.

At the same time, he made every effort to create a beautiful and intricate knotting pattern, something very loosely based on a Hishi Karada design, but with an elaborate weaving pattern at the front and back, as well as several double coin knots.

Once he was done, he kissed Draco softly, ran both his hands along the length of Draco’s arms and pulled them down, instructing him to keep them dangling at his sides, then checked his harness over.

“Look at me, my little prince.”

Harry kept his voice soft and low, prompting Draco to open his eyes. He watched as Draco blinked, struggled to cut through the thick haze in his mind, but eventually found the strength to look at him. His expression was dazed, and Harry could tell that Draco had no idea how much time had gone by since they’d started to play.

“There you are, precious, how do you feel?” he asked, inspecting the harness again, running his fingers expertly over every single knot and every single weave, checking the tension and position.

Draco smiled.

It was a sweet and innocent smile that told Harry the snugness of the rope was doing Draco a world of good.

When Draco spoke, his voice was somewhat raspy but clear enough to understand.

“I feel good, Sir.”

Harry cupped his cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his soft, slightly parted lips.

“Very good, my little prince, you’re doing so well,” he praised.

Draco’s cheeks pinked a little, and Harry rewarded him with another kiss.

“Right, that’s enough standing. For now, kneel for me, my love.”

Instead of watching Draco sink to his knees like he usually did, Harry guided him to the floor, kept a steady hold on him, then inspected the harness again, running over his mental checklist. It was almost second nature to him; he didn’t need to think about, the compulsion to check and re-check was one he made no effort to fight. His fingers moved almost out of their own accord.

“You look absolutely stunning dressed in my ropes, my little prince.”

Draco’s cheeks pinked even further, and Harry pressed his stubble against Draco’s flushed and heated skin. He rubbed his beard lightly against Draco’s cheek, then blew a kiss over the shell of Draco’s ear, delighting in the way he shuddered at the light sensations. His fingers moved in-between the knots, caressing Draco’s pale skin, teasing it, wordlessly taunting him, arousing him and further satisfying Draco’s need for physical touch.

Trailing his fingertips of his right hand over Draco’s shoulders, Harry let them run down the length of Draco’s arm, found the pulse point on the inside of his wrist and circled over it with the tip of his thumb, drawing slow and even rings. He crouched down, reached for his rope kit, and pulling out a fifth coil of rope, he opened it up, and leaving it lying on the floor, he cupped Draco’s cheek, curled his fingers around the back of his neck, and drew him in for a kiss.

“Ready for more, my little prince?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

“Good,” Harry murmured against his lips.

He reached for the rope, slowly moved behind Draco, and squeezed Draco’s forearm. His fingertips pressed into the Dark Mark, and he gave the arm a tiny tug, a gentle invitation for Draco to surrender to him.

Draco responded without the slightest hesitation. His entire arm was relaxed and tension-free, and Harry pulled it behind his back, bend it at the elbow and wound the rope around it, dragging it over Draco’s skin, causing delectable friction.

A breathy whimper escaped Draco’s lips, followed by a low moan, and smiling; Harry pressed a kiss to his little prince’s shoulder blade. He let the rope be, reached for Draco’s other arm and moved it into the same position, and watched as Draco loosely curled the fingers of his left hand around his upper arm while the fingers of his right arm curled around his left elbow, supporting it. Once Draco’s fingers stilled, Harry began to work the rope around his arms, tying them into the chest harness. He paid extra attention to the placement of the ropes, the tightness, and circulation, and once he’d finished the tie, he double-checked it, then rechecked it again, tugging at the rope, securing the end knots and the rope finishing.

“How are you doing, my little prince?” he asked, circling his arms around Draco and embracing him from behind, drawing him against his chest.

He felt the steady beat of Draco’s heart, slightly faster than usual, and listened to the sound of him breathing.

“Good, Sir.”

Draco whispered his response and Harry pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he murmured.

Draco made a soft keening sound, and Harry chuckled into his neck, peppering it with tiny kisses.

“You are absolutely perfect, my little prince, just stunning. You take my breath away, Draco Malfoy.”

Harry continued to shower Draco with tender kisses and let his fingers travel over Draco’s skin pale skin, touching him, teasing him.

The longer he caressed Draco, the more laboured Draco’s breathing became. A soft sigh and low moans escaped him, and running the fingers of one hand through Draco’s hair, Harry checked the ropes with the other, traced each knot and each weave, until he was satisfied that everything was perfectly safe.

“OK?” he murmured into Draco’s ear.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Perfect.”

Harry let his fingertips dance along Draco’s front, teased his pert nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing them, then circled Draco’s navel, and finally let his fingers ghost over Draco’s cock. What with Draco’s attention focused on the way the ropes hugged him, his cock was only half-hard, but it only took a bit of rotten teasing from Harry to change that. He watched as Draco’s cock filled out, grew longer and thicker, and licked his lips.

Draco’s breathy moans turned into quiet pleads, but Harry removed his hand and pressed a kiss to the side of Draco’s neck.

“I’m not done tying you, my sweet little prince,” he murmured, then flicked his tongue against Draco’s earlobe, teasing it.

He breathed hotly and chuckled when Draco responded with a needy whimper.

“Soon, my little prince, soon,” he promised.

Since Draco’s arms were bound behind his back, Harry kept one arm securely fastened around Draco’s midriff, then moved to retrieve yet another coil of rope from his kit. He helped Draco to stretch out his legs, allowing him to sit rather than kneel, and without removing his arm from around Draco, Harry expertly adjusted Draco’s position, helping him to lie comfortably on his side. He supported Draco’s head, placed a pillow underneath it, checked his rope work, then reached for Draco’s right leg and bent it at the knee, tugging its heel underneath Draco’s arse.

Reaching out, Harry gave Draco’s upper arm a quick squeeze, then leant over him and kissed his cheek.

“OK?” he whispered.

Draco hummed and nodded his head.

“Yes, Sir,” he said.

Harry smiled.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“My good boy.”

“_Ngh_.”

Draco keened softly, and Harry pressed another kiss to his cheek, then let his fingers trail over as much of Draco’s exposed skin as possible. He took the coil of rope, opened it up, and positioning it; he set about creating spiral futomomo tie, which he worked into the hip end of his elaborate chest harness. He worked carefully, with patience, and concentration, checking and rechecking every single knot, never once forgetting to ask Draco how he was holding up.

Each time he asked, Draco gave him a clear verbal response and Harry praised him, peppered him with kisses, then resumed working on the tie. Once he was happy with it, he rechecked it, tugged on it in different places and made sure he hadn’t accidentally cut of Draco’s circulation. He let his fingertips glide over Draco’s leg, along the outside of his thigh, then his calf, and finally, he teased the sole of Draco’s foot, causing him to jerk away.

“No, please,” Draco begged.

Harry laughed softly and bent down to press a kiss to Draco’s knee.

“Yes,” he murmured, then bit Draco’s calf, sinking his teeth deeply into Draco’s skin and sucking it into his mouth.

Draco let out a cry, and Harry soothed the bite with kisses and traced it with his tongue.

“Pretty boy,” he whispered, then left a bite mark on Draco’s arse, one on his lower leg, and a third on his thigh.

“You’re going to look so beautiful with my marks all over you, my precious little prince.”

Harry bit the back of Draco’s thigh and Draco howled.

His breathing was ragged, and his chest rose and fell rapidly.

Harry caressed his arm, stroking it, then sucked on Draco’s big toe, biting the back of it enthusiastically. Since Draco’s calf was bound to his thigh, he couldn’t do much more than to jerk pathetically, and Harry chuckled. He let the soft rumbles of laughter vibrate through the ropes that kept Draco bound, and moving onto all fours; Harry towered above Draco. He pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek, then sank his teeth into Draco’s upper arm, leaving teeth marks and a dark-purple love bite behind.

For a few seconds, Draco struggled against his ropes, then he stilled, and Harry peppered him with kisses, rewarded him with soft caresses and wiped the silent tears, that ran down Draco’s cheeks, away.

“My sweet boy, I’ve got you, it’s alright, let it all out.”

Draco whimpered.

“Please, Harry, please.”

“Please _what_, my love?”

“Please, I need you so bad, please.”

Harry smiled.

He sucked on Draco’s earlobe, traced over his bonds, mentally checking the ropes, and making sure that Draco was only as uncomfortable as Harry wanted him to be.

“What do you need, my little prince?”

Draco moaned softly and quietly.

A fresh wave of silent tears spilled over the rim of his eyes, and Harry kissed them away, revelling in the saltiness, knowing that shedding those tears gave Draco the release he needed to ground himself.

“What do you need?” he asked again, murmuring his words directly into Draco’s ear.

“Need you, Sir, need you. Please.”

“I’m right here, my love, you’ve got me,” Harry whispered.

He scooped Draco up, pulled him into his arms and wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him close.

“Close your eyes, my little prince.”

Harry placed his hand softly above Draco’s eyes, felt his eyelashes flutter against the palm of his hand, and pressed a kiss to Draco’s collar.

“Close your eyes, my little prince, I’ve got you, I won’t let you go, you’re safe with me.”

Draco let out a soft whimper, and Harry felt him obey. He kept his hand over Draco’s eyes, reached for his rope kit and pulled a black blindfold out of the bag. It was made of pure silk and incredibly soft to the touch. He carefully placed it over Draco’s closed eyes, adjusted it ever so slightly, then tied it at the back, and kissed Draco’s cheek.

“There, there, still here, I won’t go anywhere, my little prince.”

Harry continued to caress every inch of milky white skin he could comfortably reach and felt Draco relax. In no rush to move things along, Harry checked the ropes, tracing his fingers along the knots and murmuring the incantation to a spell, he channelled the beat of the music, and let it flow through the rope, causing gentle vibrations to surge through his elaborate ties.

Draco gasped, his mouth fell open, and his body shuddered.

Harry continued to let his fingertips travel over Draco’s skin, teasing it, arousing him, slowly but surely turning him into a needy wreck. There was nothing sexual about his touch, it was just an intimate caress, but it was enough to drive Draco wild, to make him beg for more. Harry held out on him for the longest time but eventually twisted his nipples, pulling on them, causing exquisite pain.

Draco cried out, then whimpered and Harry did it again, and again, and again. He flicked his nails over the hard buds, twisted them, squeezed them, pulled them, and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger. Eventually, he sank his teeth into the other side of Draco’s neck and bit hard. At the same time, he pulled on and twisted Draco’s nipples, causing him to try and arch his back and jerk away from the pain.

He sobbed, cried, and his tears soaked through the blindfold.

Harry soothed the bite with tiny kisses, coated his fingertips with his own saliva and tenderly soothed Draco’s abused nipples.

It took a few minutes for Draco’s sobs to subside and without letting go of his little prince, Harry removed one last item from his bag ― a bottle of lube. He twisted the cap off, poured a generous amount of the cold liquid into the palm of his hand, then wrapped his fingers around Draco’s achingly hard cock and stroked it.

Draco let out a silent scream, twisted his head, and Harry supported it, repeatedly running his fingers through Draco’s damp hair, stroking it, massaging his scalp.

“There, there, I’ve got what you need, my little prince, be good for me now.”

Draco quietly sobbed into the crook of his neck and Harry cradled him in his arms.

He teased Draco’s cock with slow, long strokes, gradually driving him closer and closer to the edge, though he was in no rush to finish things.

“Please, Sir.”

Draco whimpered.

Harry smiled.

“All in good time, my little prince, just lie here in my arms and enjoy yourself. I’ll take such good care of you, I promise you.”

Draco moaned, and Harry felt him flex his fingers.

As though it was reflex, he checked the rope that kept Draco’s hands bound behind his back and found it in impeccable condition.

He continued to tease Draco’s cock, toying with his balls, squeezing them very gently, then slipped his lube-coated index finger past them and pressed against Draco’s perineum, stroking the sensitive spot. He circled Draco’s tight and fluttering hole, applied the tiniest amount of pressure, then returned to wank Draco. He pushed him closer and closer to the edge, and when Draco, desperate to come, started begging him, Harry denied him and stopped. He gave Draco a few minutes to calm down, then added more lube and started all over again.

This time, he breached Draco’s tight hole, pushed his finger in up to the second knuckle and slowly finger-fucked Draco.

“Please, please, please, please.”

“Please _what_, my little prince?”

Harry deliberately tortured him, forcing him to tell him exactly what he wanted.

“Please let me come, please, Sir, please.”

Harry chuckled.

He pressed a kiss to Draco’s perspired forehead.

“Soon, my love, soon,” he promised.

Draco mewled.

Harry pushed his finger further into Draco’s hole, twisted it, then angled it just right and pressed against Draco’s prostate. He rubbed the tip of his finger over the walnut-sized pleasure point, teased and tormented Draco, mercilessly edging him, then stopped again.

Draco cried out, thrashed in his arms, or tried to, and a swell of desperate pleas fell from his lips.

Harry rocked him in his arms, kissed him softly, caressed his flushed skin and gave him some time to come down from his almost-high.

“One more, my love. Can you be good for me and do one more, my little prince?”

Draco twisted his head from side to side.

“No,” he whimpered, “please, Sir, please, I need to― please!”

Harry remained firm.

“One more, my little prince. I know you can be good for me. Just one more and I’ll give you what you need.”

“_Ngh_.”

Harry reached for the bottle of lube, splashed a liberal amount onto his hand, then wrapped his hand loosely around Draco’s throbbing cock. It pulsed in his hand, its head dark-red and dripping with precome. Harry stroked it, slowly, evenly.

Draco heaved a soft sigh, and Harry wrapped his free arm around his little prince’s chest, hugging him tightly. He kissed his wet cheeks tenderly, gripped his cock a little firmer, and stroked a bit faster. Draco’s breathed more quickly, his chest rising and falling more rapidly, and he curled his toes.

Harry got him to move his unbound leg, spread himself open, and Draco obeyed him beautifully. As a reward, Harry angled their heads just right and kissed Draco, deeply and possessively, claiming his mouth, and plunging his tongue inside.

Draco moaned into the kiss and Harry increased the speed of his strokes a bit more. His hand, slippery with lube, glided up and down Draco’s cock, and he focused on all the sounds Draco made, his little moans and whimpers, his gasps and sighs, his tiny cries, and his nearly incoherent pleas.

It didn’t take long before Harry had Draco right where he wanted him, seconds away from an earth-shattering orgasm. He promptly slowed his strokes and teased Draco’s swollen and aching cock with his fingertips. He circled the head, circled the underside of it, pressed the flat of his hand against it and rubbed softly, too teasingly to push Draco over the edge.

Draco thrashed in his arms, tugged on his ropes, begged, moaned, tried his best to thrust into Harry’s hand, but couldn’t gain any traction. He cried out, gasped, and his voice broke as he repeatedly pleaded with Harry, desperate to come.

“Just a bit longer, my precious little prince,” Harry whispered. “You’re my good boy; you’re so good for me, you’re doing so well.”

Harry’s encouragement seemed to help, and although Draco tethered on the brink of losing his mind, Harry could feel that Draco allowed his words to anchor him.

He cupped Draco’s balls, they were tight and heavy, squeezed them gently, rubbed his finger over Draco’s hole, teasing it, then focused all of his attention on Draco’s cock, grasping it firmly and letting his lubed hand fly over it.

Draco cried out, begged him not to stop this time, and smiling; Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Come for me, my little prince, come now,” he whispered.

As if on cue, Draco screamed, and exploding all over his hand, he shot stripe after stripe of his come all over him and the surrounding area. It landed on his legs, on the ropes, all over his chest, the floor, and Harry’s hand.

Harry stroked him through his orgasm, gently milking him until he had nothing left to give, then let go and used magic to clean his hand.

Draco’s entire body trembled, and Harry wrapped him into a tight embrace, holding him through the aftermath of his release.

“My good boy, so perfect, you were so good, so, so good for me, my little prince.”

Harry felt Draco slip, felt him drift and worked to undo the ropes. He removed the leg tie first, then the arm restraints, and finally he undid the chest harness, removing coil after coil of rope from Draco’s body.

Once his little prince was free, Harry summoned a bottle of fresh, cold water, unscrewed it, and gently supporting Draco’s head, he coaxed him into taking a few small sips, making sure he didn’t choke in the process. He removed Draco’s blindfold, held him tight and flicking his hand at the wireless, he wandlessly changed the music, opting for relaxing classical music to soothe Draco with.

Draco curled into him, and hugging him, Harry gently rocked him in his arms, ran his fingers through Draco’s sweat-soaked hair and kissed him softly, tenderly.

“I’m here, my little prince, I’ve got you, you’re safe. I’ll stay with you, my love. That’s it, just let it go, let me take care of you, I’ve got you my precious, sweet, sweet boy, I love you so much.”

He calmed Draco with softly spoken murmured words, telling him that he was loved and safe and that he had nothing to worry about. As Draco drifted, lost in his own mind, floating, unable to properly articulate himself, Harry continued to hold him. He hummed softly, ran his hands along Draco’s arms, kissed him, and eventually carried him into the playroom’s spacious en-suite bathroom.

There, he carefully settled Draco inside the massive bathtub, and not in the least bit concerned about the fact that he was still wearing a pair of jeans, Harry moved to sit behind Draco, cradled him in his arms and gradually filled the top with hot water, wandlessly levitating essential oils off a nearby shelf and pouring them into the tub.

Bathing in one’s clothing wasn’t exactly the most advisable of things, but Harry was too concerned with Draco’s wellbeing to care about his own comfort or discomfort. He washed Draco, cleaning him with a soft yellow sponge, massaged his arms, his shoulders and rubbed his leg, working tirelessly to increase circulation, to make him feel loved and cared for.

Every now and then, Draco mumbled something, but no matter how much Harry strained his ears, he couldn’t make sense of it the incoherent nonsense that fell from Draco’s lips. It made him smile though, and after he’d removed the collar, he occasionally paused to pepper Draco’s neck with tiny kisses. He cared for each and every single mark he’d left on Draco’s body but didn’t heal any of them, knowing that Draco didn’t want him to.

After a good twenty minutes, Harry climbed out of the bath, lifted Draco out and seating him on a chair with a back- and armrest, he fought with his jeans, peeling the wet garment off his legs. He didn’t bother to dry himself, instead choosing to simply fasten the towel around his hips, then summoned another one to dry Draco with.

Once he was sure that Draco was dry and comfortable, he carried him out of the bathroom, and through the playroom, wandlessly unlocking the door and letting it swing it open. Like he’d done so many times before, he brought Draco down to their bedroom, tucked him into bed, then crawled in behind him, and wrapped his arms and legs around his little prince, hugging him tightly.

“I love you, Harry,” were the first coherent words out of Draco’s mouth and smiling, Harry pressed a lingering kiss between Draco’s shoulder blades.

“I love you too, my little prince.”

He stayed with Draco until long after he’d fallen asleep, holding him, running his fingers through Draco’s hair, caressing him and repeatedly telling him that he was loved, so loved, so, so loved.

* * *

*****

* * *

By the time Draco woke up from his deep slumber, it was already dark outside. He groggily rolled onto his back and glancing out the window ― Harry hadn’t drawn the curtains ― he looked up at the moon, it was nearly full, and a plethora of stars. They sparkled brightly in the night sky, and Draco smiled.

_The weather will be beautiful tomorrow_, he thought, then allowed himself a stretch but winced when his sore muscles resolutely protested the movement. He sighed, and felt his stomach rumble, demanding food. Draco tried his hardest to find the energy to throw the covers off and climb out of bed, but despite feeling famished and a little bit lightheaded, the cosiness and warmth of Harry’s and his bed won him over. He attempted another stretch, this time slower and much more careful, and dragged one hand out from underneath the heavy winter covers. He pressed two fingertips against one of the love bites on his neck, grimaced at the lingering discomfort, then smiled.

Harry had marked him, had left a trace on him, had claimed him, had made him his.

The thought made Draco giddy, and he closed his eyes, trying to recall Harry’s and his earlier scene. His mind was still a bit fuzzy around the edges, but he remembered the tightness of Harry’s ropes, and how safe and protected he’d felt.

Yes, he’d been helpless, and entirely at Harry’s mercy, but he’d treasured every second of it. With Harry, he had no reason to be afraid.

He recalled Harry’s kisses, his tender loving touch, his warm voice, and how he’d cared for him, and it instantly made Draco a bit tearful.

He sniffed and cast his mind a little further back into the past.

The stress of the last week was all but a distant memory. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the furore Harry’s official statement to the press, and the announcement of their engagement had caused. As usual, the media had gone mental, making a mountain out of a molehill, but now, after Harry had tied him up and taken care of him, he felt relaxed and at ease. He couldn’t think of a single good reason to worry about anything, and chuckling to himself, Draco decided that what with that many endorphins still running through his system, he was clearly still sky-high.

His stomach rumbled again, brusquely insisting on being fed, and with a sigh, Draco reached for the duvet cover. He was about to throw it back and grudgingly sit up, when the door to Harry’s and his bedroom opened and, as if he’d sensed that he was awake, Harry walked in, holding a tray laden with food.

At the sight and smell of it, Draco’s mouth watered and he scrambled into a sitting position.

Harry laughed in amusement, and his green eyes twinkled and danced behind his round glasses.

Ordinarily, that kind of reaction made Draco threaten him with a stinging hex, or at the very least frown, but tonight, he smiled.

Harry kicked the door shut behind him, walked further into the room and placed the tray with its four legs on top of the bed covers.

Draco stared at the food in front of him and licked his lips.

His stomach rumbled loudly, and instead of feeling embarrassed about it, he gave Harry a lopsided grin and shrugged.

Harry chuckled.

“Looks like your Saviour arrived at exactly the right time.”

Draco rolled his eyes, then laughed.

“Stop the press! Breaking News! Wizarding World’s Golden Boy saves Future Husband from Starvation.”

Harry seated himself on the edge of the bed and grinned.

“Want me to floo over to the Prophet to let them know?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

Draco crooked his head sideways and looked at him, then shook his head.

“Tempting, but no.”

Harry laughed.

“Alright, I’ll let you have your way this time,” he said.

Draco chuckled.

He reached for a fork, helped himself to several pieces of crispy-golden fried potatoes, and shoving them into his mouth, he promptly let out a rather indecent groan, but instead of blushing, he merely looked at Harry and shrugged.

“What?” he asked, his mouth still full of half-chewed potatoes.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Pig.”

Draco shoved yet another forkful of fried potatoes into his mouth.

“You proposed already,” he said.

Harry threw his head back, laughing out loud.

“And that means all bets are now off?”

Draco nodded.

“Pretty much,” he said.

Harry shook his head.

“We’re reviewing our contract in the morning. I’m adding a couple more rules and punishments.”

Knowing that Harry was only teasing him, Draco remained entirely unfazed, and with a mischievous grin, he blew a kiss into Harry’s general direction, then reached for a glass of water and drank at least half of it. After putting the glass back down onto the tray, he momentarily held Harry’s gaze, then smiled and mumbled a quiet ‘_thank you_’, although he really wasn’t sure what exactly he was thanking Harry for. There was so much, and he couldn’t get his mind to settle on just one thing in particular.

Harry moved closer to him and cupped one half of his face.

Draco couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He felt Harry’s thumb caress his cheek and shuddered.

Harry smiled at him.

His green eyes sparkled with so much love that Draco’s heart skipped a beat, and he found himself swallowing hard.

“For you, always, my little prince.”

And just like that, and because he was still feeling raw from their earlier scene, Draco’s world turned upside down. He felt his eyes fill with tears, dropped the fork onto the bed, and when Harry wrapped his strong arms around him, he curled into Harry’s embrace.

“I’ve got you, my little prince, I’m right here.”

Harry whispered sweet words of comfort.

He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and massaged his scalp.

In response, Draco buried his face in Harry’s chest, swallowed a sob, and sniffed.

“I love you. So much.”

He mumbled the words into the front of Harry’s dark-green hoodie, inhaled deeply, and relaxed a little further into Harry’s embrace, drawing strength from him, basking in his unconditional love, and revelling in the gentle way Harry rubbed his back, as though he was fragile, as though he might break, as though he was Harry’s everything.

_It’s true. You are his everything, he’s told you so before._

The thought rang in his mind, and this time, Draco couldn’t quite keep the sob inside. Hot tears spilt over the rims of his eyes, and he cried, quietly, flushing with embarrassment but not feeling strong enough to pull away from Harry and hide underneath the covers.

“Hush now, my little prince. I love you too, my precious.”

It took Draco another five minutes before he’d calmed down enough to sit up. He was about to dry his wet cheeks when Harry did it for him, and the tender gesture made him well up all over again.

He sighed.

“I’m all over the place,” he mumbled.

Harry smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Quite normal. Today was intense, but fuck me, you were amazing. I loved seeing you in my ropes; you were absolutely perfect. If I could, I’d keep you in a harness all day every day.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat, partly because Harry had praised him and partly because he felt a bit embarrassed.

Harry gave him a playful wink and leant close to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry, my love; I will save my rigging for special occasions.”

Draco coughed, searched for his fork and was about to resume eating when Harry took the fork, speared up a couple of fried potatoes, and offered them to him.

“Let me,” he whispered.

Draco nodded and opened his mouth, allowing Harry to feed him.

“Always,” he said with a smile.

“Such a good boy.”

Harry’s praise turned his cheeks crimson, and he coughed.

“You’re turning me into a pile of goo,” he said.

Harry grinned.

“Perfect. Although, on a slightly more serious note, how are you feeling?”

Draco shrugged.

“Not sure. Ask me tomorrow?”

Harry nodded.

“Alright. We’ll talk tomorrow. Now, be my good boy and open up.”

Draco grinned and parting his lips; he let Harry feed him another forkful of food.

He chewed and swallowed.

“Do you get a kick out of this?” he asked.

Harry laughed.

“Yes,” he answered.

Giddy and full to the brim with love, Draco settled back into the cushions behind him and continued eating the food Harry offered him.

_Heaven_, he thought, and a thrill of excitement surged down his spine.

* * *

* * *


	36. A Welcome Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To say that the last month and a half were a bit of a rollercoaster ride would be a grave understatement. It's been nothing short of insane. Writers are usually supposed to have all the words but this time, I have none to describe that it's been like to be forced to accept emergency expatriation from the country I've called my home for the past seven years. I've had to leave the majority of my belongings behind, hand my cat over to a friend, and leave with absolutely everything up in the air.
> 
> But enough about all that. You aren't here to listen to my less than profound ramblings about what a complete shitstorm my life has been since the 23rd of January 2020. So, without no further ado, here's a (somewhat) short but new chapter.
> 
> I would apologise for the long wait but that implies that everything that happened was somehow something I had any sort of control over. I did not. I'll write something else shortly, but I do ask for your patience as I've been forced to completely rewrite my life or actually, I am in the process of rewriting it. Jeez, I'm too old for this sort of madness.
> 
> All the kudos go to my future wife, **CB**, and my brother, **K**, who somehow have been able to deal with all of my moods, my snappiness, and all the other shit I've thrown at them. Without them, I'd have lost it a long time ago. Massive thanks also go to all my other friends who have been patient, supportive and understanding during this trying time. Thank you for being my rocks!
> 
> Love,  
Selly x

* * *

* * *

Harry took his glasses off and pressed the balls of his hands against his closed eyes. He rubbed them slowly, moving his hands first clockwise, then counter-clockwise, but much to his annoyance, the massage did little to relieve the tension that had concentrated behind his eyes and threatened to turn into a full-fledged migraine.

Vexed, he dropped his hands into his lap and twisted his fingers together. Sitting back, he rested the back of his head against the top of his office chair and focused on nothing in particular. Blinking several times in the hope that the added lubrication, the gesture provided, would help nourish and relax his tired eyes, Harry took a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again.

His vision was somewhat blurred, but it wasn’t muddy enough for him not to notice the large curse stain that zig-zagged square across the centre of his office ceiling. It had been there ever since he’d, following his promotion to Head of the Auror Department, moved into this particular office. He seldom noticed the remnants of whatever duel had, at some point, clearly taken place inside these four walls, but occasionally, and especially whenever he took a moment to look up, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how the curse mark had come to be there and why nobody had ever bothered to do something about removing it.

Making a mental note to talk to Bill about the stain and whether there was a way of covering it up, Harry slowly straightened up and rising to his feet, he grabbed his glasses, pushed them back onto the bridge of his nose, and then stretched luxuriously. His tired muscles protested, his bones cracked, and grimacing, Harry reached for his coffee mug in the hope that a much-needed caffeine boost might curb his irritation.

The shiny Slytherin-green cup, a gift from Draco, was still half-full but the beverage inside was cold, and despite his all-consuming tiredness, Harry couldn’t bring himself to take a sip. With a deep frown, one that almost resembled an expression of disgust, Harry pressed his lips tightly together and vanished the remnants of his third coffee of the day with a wandless flick of his hand.

His reaction instantly reminded him of Draco and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle. What he’d just done was something Draco would most definitely do and the thought of how interwoven their lives had become over the last two years filled Harry with a strange sort of glee. It didn’t exactly make his heart skip a beat, and his stomach didn’t fill with butterflies either. Instead, what he felt was more of a serene calmness, a sort of physical ease that most definitely contributed to his wellbeing. Despite the exasperation that filled him at the thought of the complete and utter nonsense he was dealing with today, thinking of Draco and how some of his little prince’s habits had rubbed off on him made him feel content and happy.

It took a bit of effort not to let his mind wander off into a world of its own and pulling himself back together, Harry focused on the here and now. A second wandless, non-verbal spell cleaned the cup in his hand, and pleased with his handiwork, Harry set it back down, then chanced a glance at the paperwork on top of his desk.

The large knot of irritation in the pit of his stomach, one he thought he’d managed to loosen up a bit, tightened once more, and thoroughly piqued, Harry got up and stepped away from his desk. The palm of his hand itched terribly, and he wanted nothing more than to _Incendio_ every single parchment that currently cluttered up his desk. He checked his wristwatch for the time and decided that he absolutely had enough of pouring over report after report.

On the way over to the door, Harry allowed himself another stretch, then rolled his shoulders in the hope to ease out a few more kinks. The relief he felt was marginal, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether he might be able to convince Draco to spoil him with a full-body massage once he got home later tonight. He stifled a yawn and reaching for the door handle, he turned it and opened the door to his office only to find Draco stood right in front of him. Draco had his hand raised―he’d clearly just been about to knock―and looked mildly surprised over the fact that Harry had pulled the door open before he’d been able to announce his presence.

The sight of Draco lifted Harry’s sour mood instantly, and feeling the tension knots inside of him relax, he smiled broadly. All was well.

“Prosecutor Malfoy, what brings you up here?”

Draco chuckled and lowered his hand, casually letting it rest at his side.

“Missed you, _Sir_,” he murmured.

An electrified shudder surged down Harry’s spine and pooled low in his groin. It wasn’t arousal per se, but it definitely had potential to grow into that, though at this point in time he didn’t chase the thrill but left it right where it was, content for the sensation to linger.

“I thought you said you’d be in court for most of the afternoon.”

Draco nodded.

“I thought so too. Turns out my opening statement was so persuasive that the defendant went against his barrister’s advice and pleaded guilty. We had a verdict in less than an hour. Think it was my fastest trial yet.”

The gleeful sparkle in Draco’s silvery-grey eyes made Harry’s lips curl upward, and he smiled.

“Aren’t you a force to be reckoned with,” he said with a fond undertone.

Draco’s smile slowly turned into his signature Malfoyesque sly smirk, and his eyes sparkled with joy.

“Without being all arrogant about it, I think I am. At least in the courtroom.”

Harry grinned.

He reached out, curled his fingers around Draco’s wrist and pulled him closer, then leant in to press a kiss to Draco’s lips.

“My fiery little prince,” he whispered, “You always are a force to be reckoned with.”

He felt the slight tremor that shook through Draco’s core, and drawing back, he brought his other hand up and pressed his palm lightly against Draco’s smooth, pale cheek. Draco tilted his head to the side, leant into the touch and smiled softly. His silvery-grey eyes were warm and open. He wasn’t hiding anything. There was no barrier behind which he concealed a part of him, afraid that it might get hurt. He was an open book, and Harry loved being allowed that exclusive glimpse straight into Draco’s soul.

“Tell me, Director Potter, are you by any chance interested in being abducted and taken out for coffee?”

Harry grinned.

“Yes, please. The sooner, the better. And add something to eat as well, I’m absolutely bloody famished.”

Draco chuckled.

“That bad?” he asked.

Harry sighed, trying his hardest not to think about the mess he was trying to put into order. Those files on his desk instilled him with horror, and he resolutely banished any and all thoughts about them to the darkest corner of his mind, threw up a few protective charms to contain them and sealed the door with a powerful locking spell. He instantly felt much better but answered Draco’s question anyway.

“Worse,” he said.

“Well, in that case, I best get you out of here as soon as possible, Director Potter.”

Harry nodded.

“Please do.”

Draco stepped back to allow him to vacate his office and pulling the door closed behind him, Harry locked it with a series of wandless, non-verbal locking charms. All of them were non-standard spells that required his magical signature. The counter-curse for each of them functioned in much the same way. This meant that he was the only one who could take the wards around his office down.

On the way through the small foyer in front of his office, Harry called out to his Head Secretary to inform her that he was heading out but that should his Aurors require his assistance, they could each him via wand alert. She didn’t question him but merely nodded in acknowledgement, then continued with what she’d been doing before he’d interrupted her. She was a no-nonsense kind of person, and Harry appreciated that about her. He’d hired her following Draco’s recommendation, and he had no regrets about his decision. She always got the job done and ensured that everyone else got theirs done as well. Harry absolutely loved her attitude, the way she got things done, and how she always remained on top of everything.

Somehow, she always ensured that nobody’s morale, including his own, suffered, especially when the department caught a challenging or high-profile case. Over the past year, she’d done a million and one little things to make his job a whole lot easier and to show his appreciation, Harry had increased her salary twice. She was paid far more than any other Head Secretary in the entire Ministry, but Harry couldn’t care less about that. In his opinion, she deserved the numeration she got. Her competency deserved every knut.

Falling into a comfortable pace, Harry walked alongside Draco and together, they made their way through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and towards the lifts.

Just as they arrived, one of the lifts called at their floor, and the metal doors swung open while a cool voice announced the level and the name of the department.

Two of Harry’s Aurors, dressed in their scarlet robes, stepped out and greeted him. They also acknowledged Draco by name, and he nodded his head and smiled.

Harry reached out to hold the lift doors open, allowing Draco to step inside first, then followed swiftly.

Inside, stood towards the back of lift car, was only one other person; Raven Wackerbarth. As far as Harry knew, he worked for the International Magical Office of Law. Harry greeted him politely, but remained otherwise silent, not knowing at else to say. He also wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Not after the nightmare of a morning, he’d had so far.

Draco, on the other hand, due to his position as Senior Prosecutor for the Wizengamot, was far more familiar with Raven’s work within the department and immediately struck up a conversation on current affairs.

Harry listened with half an ear but felt too tired to actively participate in the discussion. He was fully aware what they were talking about, and was familiar with what they were discussing, but wasn’t interested in recalling the latest inter-departmental memo on the recent developments of the treaty Draco and Raven were talking about. Instead, he focused on the movement of the lift car and focused his attention on the floor display and the cold, female voice that announced each floor.

By the time, the lift had reached Level 8, and the lift doors opened towards The Atrium, which was bustling with Ministry workers and visitors, Draco had made plans to meet Raven for lunch sometime next week for a more in-depth discussion of the development of the International Wizarding Council’s latest amendment to several outdated laws pertaining to the worldwide collaboration in magical education, sciences, and culture.

After biding Raven goodbye, Harry and Draco exited the lift and walking alongside Draco with the back of his hand occasionally brushing against the back of Draco’s hand, Harry gently guided Draco over to the fireplaces which allowed for both apparition and floo travel. With Draco at his side, Harry joined the queue for the first one, and after a short wait, it was their turn.

They stepped inside, and Harry immediately reached for Draco’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Side-along?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Sure. Our place in Notting Hill?”

Harry smiled.

“Yes.”

Draco inclined his head, and a second later, Harry felt the familiar, and slightly nauseating pull of apparition in the pit of his stomach and his world spun out of focus. The jump was short, and a few seconds later, they arrived at an apparition point not far away from Portobello Road.

Harry decided to take advantage of the fact that they were hidden away from prying eyes, and pulling Draco closer, he snuck his free arm around Draco’s waist and leant in to capture Draco’s delicious pink lips in a slow and unhurried kiss.

Draco melted into his embrace and surrendered to the kiss. He moved his arm behind his back and feeling it, Harry blindly wrapped his fingers around Draco’s wrist and squeezed.

He pulled Draco that little bit closer, allowed his possessive nature to guide him into deepening the kiss and slowly slithering his tongue past Draco’s slightly parted lips, he sought out Draco’s tongue and wound his own around it.

Draco moaned into the kiss, and in response, Harry tightened his grip and applied even more pressure to Draco’s wrist, silently hoping to leave red marks behind. He knew that whatever marks he was bound to leave on Draco’s milky pale skin, weren’t going to linger for very long but it was the thought of them that ignited something fierce inside Harry’s chest. The secret knowledge of his mark on Draco, however faint, a claim, a sign of ownership; Harry wanted that more than anything.

Driven by his need to possess, Harry kept a firm grip on Draco’s wrist and dragged his arm further up, edging it along Draco’s spine until he felt Draco’s muscles respond, tensing. Draco moaned into the kiss, and Harry deepened it, gradually turning it into a fiercely passionate battle of the tongues.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you reckon is going to happen next? ;-)  
Humour me, the crazier the better...


	37. Coffee Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**For my love,** who continues to stick with me throughout all my mood swings, even though life isn't easy for her either. Thank you. I love you. Now and always._
> 
> I would like to thank you all for your kindness and understanding. It's been nearly two months since sh*t hit the fan and I was forced to leave China, a place that stole a tiny part of my heart and that gave me a home for the last seven years of my life. Life's been mad and I've not found much time to write. There've been so many days where I wanted to just hide away and write on this story but I simply couldn't find the will to do so.
> 
> Today hasn't been a very good day, but I chose to write to escape reality for a while. LPK Harry and Draco are such a big part of my life and they feel like home and safety (much like a hug from my beloved coffee bean). They absolutely are a welcome respite from the madness of real life.
> 
> I hope things will start to settle down soon. In the meantime, please stay safe and sensible, everyone. These are strange and dark times and knowing that my wonderful and amazing readers are well would be such a great gift to me.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments. I've read them more than once and I will eventually find the time to respond individually, just as I always do.
> 
> Love,  
Selly
> 
> P.S. This chapter didn't at all turn out as it should. I had all of it planned out but then the boys decided to thwart my plans (AS USUAL!!!) and go against my wishes. I've misplaced my riding crop, otherwise, I'd have whipped them into shape!

* * *

* * *

By the time Harry broke away from the kiss, Draco could feel the burn, brought on by a distinct lack of oxygen, in his lungs. He hadn’t exactly kept track of time but they’d most definitely been locked at lips for the longest time. Desperate for air, Draco wanted to gulp down as much of it as he possibly could. Anything to satisfy the craving. Knowing it wouldn’t do him any good to stand in front of Harry and pant as though he’d just finished running a marathon, he forced himself to take a slow deep breath instead.

His lungs welcomed the gradual but steady supply of oxygen, rather than being overloaded with it. After a few moments, they relaxed, and Draco continued to breathe normally, relishing in the fresh outside air. The Ministry, what with being underground, was well-ventilated but there was nothing better than filling his lungs with actual fresh air.

In the meantime, Harry had taken a step back, and although he was looking at him with hungry eyes, he appeared to be in perfect control of desire to react to how he felt. Draco loved that about Harry. He was utterly powerless against Harry’s ability to look at him with eyes that said _I’m-going-to-take-you-apart-and there’s-absolutely-nothing-you-can-do-about-that_ yet remain perfectly calm, composed, and in complete control of the situation. It was one of the many ways Harry could break him, could make him want to fall apart, and drive him wanton, making him crave things he’d never once considered before Harry had waltzed back into his life.

Right this moment, Harry stood with his back straight and with one hand casually dangling at his side. He’d pushed the other into the pocket of his tailored black slacks. The pair of trousers fit Harry like a glove, and Draco appreciated everything he saw. Harry wasn’t wearing his robes and had replaced the jacket of his formal Auror uniform with a black suit jacket ― these days he hardly wore his uniform in the office but always kept it at hand. It was always neat and tidy and smelled of freshness and authority.

The outfit, along with Harry’s scarlet robes, also reminded Draco of one epic scene; Harry had meticulously planned for them both, and the thought of it, and Harry dressed in his uniform and robes, was enough to make Draco’s knees go weak. He hastily redirected his mind, focusing on a less serious subject, one that didn’t have the potential to make him fall apart in a secluded corner of Notting Hill. His eyes fell onto Harry’s suit jacket, and he smiled softly. The fitted garment was decidedly more comfortable than Harry’s uniform jacket, and it was precisely the right shape and size for Harry’s frame.

Draco couldn’t entirely stop himself from giving Harry a very appreciative once-over. Harry was in excellent shape, and it showed. Despite the bit of tiredness that lingered around him due to the stress he faced at work, Harry looked healthy, alert and well. Draco tried his hardest not to think about the muscular body that lay beneath the layer of fitted clothes. He knew it would be his undoing, and he also knew that Harry could tell. After all, Harry could read him like a book and generally wasn’t wrong about guessing where his thoughts drifted to.

Instead of allowing the memory of Harry’s naked, ripped body turn into his undoing, Draco amused himself with an anecdote from earlier this morning. Harry had been unable to decide between wearing a burgundy button-up shirt and a more Slytherin-themed one.

He’d eventually chosen the dark-green shirt, and Draco was still immensely pleased about that fact. However, he had no intention of telling Harry how much he liked it when Harry wore something that reminded Draco of the House of Slytherin. The silken garment, another tailored item, complimented Harry, in all the right ways. Then again, these days, dressing to make an impression was something that came naturally to Harry. He knew exactly what to wear when and always knew how to look good, no matter what he decided to wear or not to wear.

“Like what you see, my little prince?”

Harry’s question instantly pulled Draco out of all of his musings. It was like the mere sound of Harry’s voice, the gentle way with which he drew his attention, was enough to quieten to the multitude of thoughts running rampant in Draco’s mind. He lifted his gaze, met Harry’s eyes, and with a soft smile, he nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry grinned.

“Good.”

Draco huffed out a soft breath of laughter and removing his arm from behind his back, he inspected the red imprint of Harry’s fingers. Seeing the actual claim of ownership, Harry had left behind, made Draco feel as if Harry’s fingers were still tightly wrapped around his wrist, squeezing his flesh, possessively holding on to him. Not for the first time, he yearned for something more permanent, a visual reminder of the fact that he belonged to Harry, that he was Harry’s little prince.

There was, of course, his engagement ring, but it wasn’t the same. The ring was a symbol of their love and their relationship in its entirety. It represented the fact that they’d both committed to spending the rest of their natural lives together. For this very reason, Draco had a hard time to think of the ring as a representation of what the D/s part of their relationship meant to him. While the two elements of their relationship were indeed tightly interwoven, there were some dissimilarities that really only stood out whenever they played. It didn’t matter whether it was just a scene or an entire weekend of dominance and submission, the rules were completely different then.

Naturally, Draco had shared his feelings with Harry, both in the journal, he kept, and in a private face-to-face conversation. When it came to their relationship, Draco wasn’t in the habit of keeping secrets, and while it hadn’t been the easiest thing to do, he’d taken a deep breath and told Harry how much he wanted to wear his collar. He craved something tangible, something he could see and feel; a piece of jewellery that was a direct representation of the BDSM aspects of their relationship and the fact that he belonged to Harry.

However, due to his position at the Ministry, Draco knew he couldn’t get away with wearing an eternity collar on a daily basis. A prosecutor for the Wizengamot could hardly step into the courtroom with a locked steel collar underneath his robes. There was, of course, the option of something a bit more discrete, a collar that looked more like a necklace rather than something that fitted snuggly around his neck, but if presented with a collar, Draco didn’t want to hide it.

Belonging to Harry was something he was proud of, not something that he was embarrassed about or that made him feel shameful. Yes, he was still hesitant to openly show his submission to Harry, but they’d started to work on that. It was yet another learning curve, a work in progress, and Draco knew that it wasn’t something he was going to master from one day to the other. He had Harry’s guidance, and with his love and support, he felt free to experiment whenever he visited the club. Draco had no idea whether he’d ever feel confident enough to participate in a public scene. Still, Harry had made it very clear to him that he wasn’t to concern himself with reaching the peak of Mt. Everest when he hadn’t even mastered Mt. Blanc yet.

Draco was about to lightly press the fingertips of his other hand to the mark, but Harry was a split-second faster. He reached for his hand and brought it up to his lips, then placed a tender kiss on the inside of his wrist. Harry’s lips touched his bare skin just above his pulse point, and Draco shuddered.

Compared to the roughness of Harry’s earlier touch, and the way he’d possessively claimed what was his, the gentleness with which he cared for the mark now made Draco shiver. He felt Harry’s tender kiss seep through his skin and felt it travel up the entire length of his arm, then zap down his spine.

At the bottom of it, the sensation flared out and spread through his groin, pooling somewhere in the very centre of it, and leaving him with the desire for more, but for the time being, he controlled it with ease.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“With you to keep me company, I’m definitely starting to,” he said.

Draco chuckled.

“Let’s get a decent cup of coffee and some food into you, and you’ll be right as rain again, Director Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“I’ll trust you to know what’s best for an overworked, frustrated Department Head.”

Draco nodded.

“I absolutely do.”

Harry grinned mischievously.

His green eyes twinkled brightly and enthusiastically danced behind his spectacles. They were full of mirth, and there was even a hint of deviousness that lingered in them.

It was the kind Draco knew could mean anything. It could mean that Harry was considering a scene later tonight, or it meant that he was just happy not to be forced to look at the pile of paperwork on his desk.

There was also a lightness to Harry that most definitely hadn’t been there when Draco had stopped by Harry’s office with the hope that his husband-to-be might have a bit of time to spare to join him for coffee, and perhaps even some food.

“Lead the way, Prosecutor Malfoy.”

Draco smiled.

“Certainly, Sir,” he said.

He waited for Harry to take his hand, then took the lead and together they left the vicinity of the official apparition spot, and walking through an old arch, they stepped out onto Portobello Road, which was bustling with liveliness and energy in the midday sun. People walked by, amicably chatting about this and that while heading into various directions and going about their daily business. Cars drove slowly, showing quiet consideration to the large amounts of pedestrians which kept crossing the road, and the bells above the smalls shops almost invariably announced the arrival of new customers and the departure of old ones.

The coffee shop where Harry had first approached him was only a few minutes away, and instead of rushing to get there, Draco took his time. Together with Harry, he strolled down the pavement, thoroughly enjoying the chance to walk alongside his husband-to-be.

Their hands loosely linked together and Draco loved the fact that Harry didn’t feel the need to keep a tight hold on him. Harry knew that he wasn’t going anywhere. In Draco’s mind, and he had never made a secret about that, he was right where he belonged, with the only man he wanted to belong to ― Harry James Potter.

Ever since they’d first met, at the tender age of eleven, but most definitely since they’d started dating, Harry had stolen more than just his heart and Draco didn’t want any of it back. Draco felt that everything Harry had, consensually, taken from him was safe with Harry. Draco trusted him explicitly; with all of it. He was by no means the kind of person who simply sat back and allowed his partner to make all the decisions concerning their life together, but he loved that Harry was always ready to take the lead. Control came easy to him, and he handled in a way that regularly made Draco go weak at the knees.

A woman with a twin pram forced Draco to momentarily step behind Harry as they pushed up against one of the colourful shop windows to let her pass. Despite looking flustered, she smiled gratefully and paused just long enough to breathlessly thank them for their kindness.

“Not a bother,” Draco responded, wondering what had happened to society that a mother-of-two felt it necessary to thank two strangers for showing her a bit of consideration by trying to make her life more comfortable.

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand lightly, and when Harry turned his head, he smiled. He’d noticed Harry’s somewhat lingering glance at the pram as the woman had passed them by. Draco knew that it wasn’t because Harry was broody and wanted a child of his own but rather because he missed spending quality time with his godson.

“There’s a toy shop two doors down. Want to check it out and see if we can find something for Teddy?” he asked.

As if on cue, Harry’s grin widened considerably, and his eyes sparkled, gleaming with a sort of child-like excitement that instantly resulted in Draco’s heart beating faster.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

The vigour with which he’d approved of the suggestion told Draco that it had been more than just a good idea. Harry loved spoiling Teddy and did so any chance he got.

Granted, due to his work commitments, he wasn’t always able to spoil his godson in person, but whenever he absolutely couldn’t find the time for Teddy, he always made sure to send him a little something.

As it stood, Draco knew that Harry and he were due a dinner at the Burrow this Sunday afternoon and he was reasonably sure that Teddy would be there. He usually was. With the family gathering only a few days away, Draco wasn’t at all surprised that Harry’s desire to indulge his godson with a little surprise was stronger than ever. Apparently, it temporarily also superseded Harry’s craving for a cup of hot, strong and black coffee.

Unable to stop himself from smirking, Draco pulled Harry along, and they walked the short distance to the toy shop. They’d passed it a countless number of times, but Draco didn’t think they’d actually ever gone inside to see what they had on offer.

Harry briefly stopped in front of the shopping window to take in the display. It quickly became apparent that the small shop placed great pride in its vast assortment of handmade wooden toys which ranged from colourful wooden blocks to jigsaws to an entire castle fortress, including knights, horses, royals, servants, and animals, made out of wood.

They quietly took in the display, then made their way over to the door. Draco instinctively reached for the handle and pulling the door open, he held it open, patiently waiting for Harry to step inside first.

“Good boy.”

Harry’s whispered words of praise as he let go of his hand and walked past him sent a pleasant jolt of energy down Draco’s spine. It tingled at the base, then flared out, and he had to take a deep breath to calm his excited nerves. If Harry had noticed his reaction, he never said a word, and slowly exhaling, Draco followed Harry inside the shop.

They quietly browsed the shelves together, occasionally drawing each other’s attention to something or other, but Harry remained indecisive for the longest time. He dithered over several toys, then dismissed them all, and walked over to a shelf towards the back of the shop. Draco followed slowly, giving Harry some space to browse but staying close enough for Harry to feel his presence. The shelf, Harry had approached, offered a large selection of jigsaws, ranging from easy ones with only a few pieces for very young children to puzzles with over a thousand pieces.

It was a jigsaw with two-thousand pieces that caught Harry’s eyes, and as if magically drawn to it, he reached out to take the package off its shelf. The photo on the front of the box showed a beautiful mountainous landscape with a sprawling dark-watered lake at its feet. It was a painting, and the scenery instantly reminded Draco of Hogwarts. He didn’t need to ask Harry to know that he’d had the same thought and when Harry half-turned to face him, Draco smiled.

“It’s a lot of tiny pieces,” he said, cautiously drawing Harry’s attention to the fact that Teddy was still quite young. Yes, he would be starting Hogwarts soon, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still a child and that he didn’t possess the attention span of an adult.

Harry hummed and nodded slowly.

“I know,” he mumbled. “I thought we could do it as a family project of sorts. The three of us, you know. What do you think?”

Draco chuckled.

“I think Teddy would love that.”

He paused to step closer to Harry and leaning in, he whispered his next words directly into Harry’s ear.

“My permanent sticking charms are excellent; if I may say so. We could frame it for Teddy and put it in his room over his bed. Once he sees Hogwarts for himself, it’ll forever remind him of the Black Lake.”

Harry turned his head a little further and drawing back a little, Draco held his gaze. There was a sort of low-burning heat in Harry’s eyes that took every ounce of Draco’s self-control, and he clenched his left fist, deliberately allowing his fingernails to dig into his skin. Anything to distract him from the way Harry was devouring him with nothing more than a steady glance.

Another moment of silence passed between them, then the look in Harry’s eyes turned positively devious, and Draco couldn’t help but shiver.

“Tonight, my little prince,” he murmured, then took a step to the side.

The completely nonchalant way with which Harry had spoken was enough for Draco to temporarily lose his bearings entirely.

Draco felt Harry push passed him and feeling like someone had forcefully yanked a rug from underneath his feet, he reached out to steady himself on a nearby sturdy-looking wooden shelf. He gripped it tightly, and thoroughly dazed, he watched as Harry, jigsaw in his hands, made his way to the front of the shop and towards to elderly man behind the counter.

It took several deep breaths before Draco managed to gather his bearings, especially after Harry had made him _that_ promise. For the longest time, he felt like letting go of the shelf would mean ending up in a heap on the floor. Draco didn’t think his legs possessed the strength to hold himself upright and it took most of his determination to at least show some sense of decorum before Draco trusted his own two feet enough to stop supporting himself. He repeatedly reminded himself of the fact that he was currently standing in the middle of the toy shop and that it was way too early for him to fall apart. There would be plenty of time for that _tonight_, Harry would personally see to that, he’d just promised him as much.

Taking one last deep breath, Draco walked up to the counter and stood next to Harry. He stood close enough to make it evident that they belonged together but kept just enough distance to keep Harry’s and his public display of affection to a minimum. Much to his surprise, he caught the elderly man behind the counter looking at them both with a certain kind of fondness.

“Pardon my curiosity, but are you married?” he asked.

Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“Not yet, but I’ve put a ring on his finger,” he answered with a smile.

At hearing those words, Draco instantly found himself looking down at his hand, and his gaze lingered on the stunning engagement ring, Harry had gifted him. Feeling proud, he showed it off and nodded when the shop’s owner asked for permission to take a closer look.

The moment Draco felt the elderly man’s wrinkly hand take hold of his, he sensed a sort of intense and almost overwhelming melancholy. Upon lifting his gaze to look at the shop’s owner, Draco noted a kind of deep sadness in his bespectacled chocolate-brown eyes, though it wasn’t sorrow born from a recent trauma but rather something he’d long since acquainted himself with.

“In my day there was no such thing,” the man said with an air of wistfulness, “although Gustav always joked that we should just write our own marriage contract.”

“And did you?” Harry asked.

The toy shop’s owner lifted his gaze and Draco felt his hand leave his. He pulled it back and let it slip into Harry’s, squeezing it gently. Harry returned the gesture, silently offering him a bit of comfort, and Draco couldn’t help but move a bit closer to him. He wanted nothing more than to feel Harry and to simply be near him.

A warm laugh filled the small space between Harry, him, and the shop keeper.

“Aye, we did, young man. Gustav took it very seriously too. It’s been rather lonely without him these past three years. I used to make these toys for all the children in my family, but he insisted that I turn it into a business. A jolly good idea it was too, if I may say so. Of course, at the time, I thought he was mad as a hatter, but the world’s been kind to me and my craft.”

“Are you still making your own toys?” Draco asked.

The shop keeper nodded.

“Some, yes. But other the years a few of my nephews and nieces have taken an interest in the craft. Gustav was very good at that too, persuading them to follow into their Uncle Albert’s footsteps.”

“Your Gustav sounds like a wonderful man,” Harry said.

He turned his head slightly, and as their eyes met, Draco felt all fuzzy and warm inside.

He mouthed a silent ‘_I love you_’ which Harry reciprocated with a warm smile.

“Aye, that he was, my Gustav. A truly loving man, always kind and so full of joy and laughter. That jigsaw there, he painted that scene, always called it home too. No idea where it’s supposed to be, he never shared, but knowing him, he just made it up anyway.”

Something quite painful tugged on Draco’s heartstrings.

He and Harry shared a knowing look, and when Draco slightly lifted his eyebrow in a silent question, Harry responded with a tiny shoulder shrug. Something in his green eyes told Draco that Harry had the same suspicions ― perhaps Gustav had been a wizard, but it seemed that he’d never shared that part of him with his beloved. Then again, maybe he’d heard stories somewhere, or he simply had a one-of-a-kind imagination.

“I’m sorry he’s left you so soon.”

The old man smiled.

“Nonsense, my boy. I had the pleasure of Gustav’s company for most of my life. It’s only fair that the angels get their turn for a while. I’ll see him again eventually.”

“You absolutely will.”

Harry’s words held such promise that Draco couldn’t help but feel a thousand per cent sure that Albert would, at some point, find himself reunited with the love of his life.

The three of them amicably chatted for a little while longer, and Harry promised Albert that they would stop by again soon and buy a few more bits and bobs for Teddy.

Once outside the independent toy shop, Draco did two things; he tilted his head towards the sunshine, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, and he also squeezed Harry’s hand tightly.

“Forever, yes?” he asked.

Harry chuckled beside him.

“Absolutely,” he said in response.

Draco slowly turned his head away from the sun and opening his eyes, he blinked a few times, then focused on Harry and smiled.

“Good, because nothing else will do.”

Harry grinned and squeezed his hand tightly.

“I’ll have you for as long as you’ll have me,” he said.

Draco nodded.

“I’ll have you forever.”

Harry laughed.

“Sentimental fool.”

Draco chuckled softly.

“Don’t tell anyone, I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

“My dragon.”

Draco shuddered at the possessiveness in Harry’s tone, and although part of him wanted to pull Harry towards the coffee shop, he made no attempt to drag Harry along with him. Instead, he stepped closer, and when he felt Harry’s arm sneak around his waist and Harry’s hand squeeze his hip, he let out a little content sigh and smiled.

Home felt just like this.

“I love you, my little prince.”

Harry’s whispered words pulled the corners of his mouth upwards, and Draco smiled softly.

“I love you too, Harry,” he whispered back.

* * *

* * *


	38. With His Hands Tied Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo Strange World.
> 
> An update is due and an update you shall have.
> 
> Admittedly, it's a short one, but I've something longer planned for the last two chapters and I promise they'll be up soon.
> 
> Loads of love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Leaning back against the backrest of the tattered and well-worn leather armchair, Harry favoured whenever he and Draco visited their coffee shop, he wrapped his hands around his second mug of coffee. He brought it up to his lips but didn’t actually take a sip. Instead, he glanced over the cup’s rim and caught Draco’s gaze.

Holding it with practised ease, Harry delighted in the sparkle of happiness in those silvery-grey eyes that had turned his life upside down long before he’d understood the true meaning of that phrase. He felt it difficult to resist the pull of the beginnings of a content smile curl around the corners of his lips and gave into its temptation without the slightest hesitation.

Draco reciprocated and entirely free from troubling thoughts about the never-ending stream of work that perpetually cluttered up his desk, Harry allowed himself to relax even further, comfortable with this moment, the here and now. There was no place he’d rather be. Enjoying a peaceful cup of coffee together with the man who had boldly stolen his heart―and several pieces of his sanity―was everything and more. It was perfection. He felt grounded, but most of all, he felt at home, and as though he belonged.

Harry didn’t need to ask Draco whether he felt the same. He could tell. It was written all over Draco’s face, in his eyes, in the way he moved, spoke, and acted, and it made Harry’s chest swell with pride. They had their moments where they―usually tired from work or piqued about other things everyday life threw at them―bickered, sometimes even argued, but despite that, Harry was absolutely sure that they were both happy.

They had both invested a great deal of trust into their relationship, and while it was a continuous work in progress, Harry felt that he’d found the person he wanted to grow old with. With the ring, he’d placed on Draco’s finger, he’d promised his little prince as much.

Harry felt his smile grow and took a sip from his coffee, letting the hot beverage slide warm him from the inside, making him feel alive. Though, usually, he didn’t need caffeine to accomplish that. One look at Draco first thing in the morning, sleeping in bed beside him, or watching his little prince gradual descend into his submission, did the trick. Then again, the way Draco’s presence made him feel, was in no way comparable to what coffee could do for him; those were entirely different ends of the spectrum. This morning, for example, coffee hadn’t been able to accomplish what being in Draco’s presence had achieved in less than fifteen minutes.

_True love_, Harry thought to himself, not even in the slightest bit embarrassed about his maudlin thoughts. Draco occasionally had that effect on him and ignoring his feelings wasn’t something Harry was accustomed to. He felt. Switching his emotions off wasn’t something he knew how to do, nor was it something he was interested in exploring.

He certainly knew how to mask his feelings, though he generally only indulged in that sort of mind magic when he wanted to mess with Draco’s head during a scene, and even then, he was always careful with exactly how pokerfaced he came across. He, to an extent, at least, made sure to keep strangers at bay, only allowing them to see part of who he really was, but with family and friends, and especially with Draco, he didn’t bother to hide who he was. Staying real and true to his beliefs was most important to him.

Aware that his mind was drifting, and not wanting to lose himself in his own head, Harry pulled himself back into the here and now, and drank a little more of his coffee. Draco had picked an excellent blend; it was a strong roast full of flavour and highly aromatic.

Harry chuckled softly to himself, and when Draco raised his eyebrow in a silent question, he merely shrugged and shook his head. Draco rolled his eyes and gave him a judgemental Slytherin look that ignited a faint itch in the centre of Harry’s palm, though he paid it no heed.

The knots of irritation over the stacks of paperwork on his desk which had―not for the first time since he’d taken charge of the Auror Division of the DMLE―made him flee his office were all but a distant memory.

Draco had most definitely seen to that with the sort of fierce determination of someone who genuinely cared and Harry had been only too happy to let him. There were days when handing the reins over to Draco most definitely had its perks.

Today was one of those days.

Upon arriving at their coffee shop, Harry had claimed their usual window seat and left Draco to organise their lunch. He usually did, and since Draco always managed to surprise him with something genuinely mouth-watering and never disappointed, Harry had no reservations about taking a backseat and patiently waiting to be surprised.

Being waited on absolutely had its advantages and Harry wasn’t about to deny his little prince the chance to take care of him. As much as he loved doting on Draco, and making him feel loved and cared for, he also thoroughly enjoyed it when Draco reciprocated and showered him with love. His little prince usually did it through taking care of things around the house, ensuring everything was in order, and either cooking or buying delicious meals, and Harry appreciated it wholeheartedly.

This time, Draco had ordered him a plate of spiced cod with quinoa salad, and somehow, he’d also procured a slide of treacle tart with a scrumptious woven lattice top and a scoop of Crème Fraiche. Naturally, there’d also been a large cup of strong black coffee―for a change, with a dollop of fresh cream.

For himself, Draco had chosen a tangy shrimp and avocado wrap and a small bowl of freshly-prepared hot leek, pea and watercress soup. Although Harry had initially frowned at the choice, Draco had eventually managed to persuade him to try the wrap and a spoonful of soup.

After that, Harry had changed his mind. To the degree that he’d actually toyed with the idea to switch plates with Draco.

“Earth to Potter, are you still in there?”

Harry abruptly snapped out of his musings.

Sitting forward, he uncrossed his legs and set his coffee mug down on the black, white and grey marble coaster in front of him.

“Been here all along, my little prince,” he said, deliberately keeping his voice low, and even going as far as to give it a husky rasp.

The visible shudder that surged down Draco’s spine, forcing him to sit up a little straighter, appeased Harry’s deviant side and he allowed himself to take perverse pleasure in how easy it was to unsettle his little prince. Whatever bratty thoughts had, undoubtedly, been cursing through Draco’s mind, simply died right there and then, and he had to take a deep breath to ground himself.

Harry chuckled softly and winked at Draco, then reached across the table and placed his hand, palm up, open and welcoming, right next to Draco’s half-finished cup of cappuccino. Draco reacted almost immediately and lifting his hand out of his lap, he rested it on top of Harry’s.

The moment he did, Harry closed his fingers around it and gave it a firm squeeze. His thumb found Draco’s pulse point and caressed it with slow, deliberate circles while applying just the right amount of pressure.

Draco blinked once―his only visible reaction to Harry’s familiar touch―but held his gaze and smiled.

It was the kind of smile that made Draco’s eyes sparkle with an intensity that more often than not left Harry feeling just a little dizzy, though not enough to force him to relinquish control. If anything, it only made him want to control Draco more. It made him want to make Draco his. He wanted to own him, possess every inch of his body and every corner of his mind. The thought of that, the knowledge that Draco would, if asked, willingly and out of own volition, relinquish all control, hand over the reins and submit, drove Harry wild. His body tingled all over, and the anticipation made him feel bold.

“You look positively devious, Sir,” Draco whispered.

Harry laughed.

It was a hearty laugh, a warm rumble that rose up from the depths of his belly.

“You have that effect on me, my little prince,” he said.

He gave Draco’s hand another firm squeeze, then pulled back slightly and picking up his coffee mug, he took a few sips, each time savouring the taste of his coffee for a moment before swallowing it down.

Draco’s smile grew tenfold and having had his fill, Harry set his cup down on top of the coaster. He reached for a napkin and unfolding it, he ripped a thin strip off one side, then casually wrapped it around the tip of his left index finger. He was completely aware that Draco was watching his every move, his beautiful silvery-grey eyes sharp and focused.

Biting back a dirty smirk, Harry placed his left hand on top of his napkin-covered finger and effortlessly cast a wandless and non-verbal transfiguration charm.

When he removed his hand again, the torn-up napkin had all but disappeared. In its place, a thin coil of black twined rope fell off his finger, landing in a messy heap in the centre of the table. Harry casually glanced around the coffee shop, but nobody paid any attention to them or looked their way.

Draco’s gasp didn’t go unnoticed, but instead of reacting to it, Harry simply picked up the transfigured rope. He found its bight with the practised ease of a skilled rigger used to handling rope―someone who felt rope rather than saw it―and cheekily slipped the rope around Draco’s index finger. Pulling tight, but not tight enough to cause injury or block the flow of blood, Harry tugged his little prince’s hand across the table, gently forcing him to move to the edge of his seat.

“What are you doing?”

Draco merely whispered his question, and with a dirty glint in his eyes, Harry responded with a nonchalant shrug.

“Nothing, just claiming what’s mine,” he said.

“In the middle of a coffee shop?”

Harry chuckled.

“Yes, it’s the best place.”

Following his very cheeky response, Harry gestured for Draco’s other hand. When his little prince offered it to him, he expertly looped the thin rope around the index finger of Draco’s other hand, pulling the back of Draco’s left hand against the back of his right. A few practised loops and knots later, Harry had managed to successfully tie Draco’s fingers and hands together. He’d used remarkably few decorative knots, but Draco’s long, pale fingers stood in stark contrast to the black rope, and as such, Harry felt that there was no need to include any elaborate knotting patterns.

Inspecting his work of art, Harry tugged on it gently, adjusting the tie here and there, then wreathed the remainder of the rope around Draco’s palms and his wrists.

Since he didn’t want to damage Draco’s circulation, Harry refrained from actually pulling the rope tight, but left it reasonably loose. It wasn’t loose enough for Draco to wriggle his way out of it or for the tie to fall apart, but there was room to ensure continuous blood flow.

Pleased with his tie, Harry smiled devilishly and placed his hands over Draco’s bound ones, ensuring that, despite the public setting, his impromptu Shibari rope play remained private. It was their little secret.

Draco relaxed instantly, and Harry could tell that the simple gesture calmed his little prince immensely. It allowed him to concentrate on the moment rather than getting distracted by the fact that they were still sitting at their usual table inside their favourite coffee shop in the heart of Notting Hill.

“Got you,” Harry murmured, purring his words into the small space between him and Draco.

“All mine, aren’t you, my little prince? You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon now, will you, sweet one?”

Draco’s breathing was slightly laboured, and his pupils were somewhat dilated.

He blinked a few times before he was able to respond, though only with a simple incline of his head.

“Yes, Sir,” he said on his next exhale, his voice velvety smooth, like the liquid purl of a fountain.

It sent a wave of arousal through Harry, and he shifted in his armchair, all the while relishing in the exquisite sensations rushing through his body. He loved this, the initial thrill, the slow-rising anticipation of what might or might not come as a plan started to form in his mind, growing from an abstract idea into something a little more concrete.

Feeling satisfied with the direction of his thoughts, Harry smiled and winked at his little prince.

He squeezed Draco’s hands lightly, using physical affirmations rather than verbal ones to continuously reassure Draco.

“Keep it in place until we get home?” he asked.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“OK.”

“Good boy, I think you’ll like your reward, but you have to wait until tonight to get it.”

Draco relaxed somewhat, and a light chuckle escaped his parted lips; an expression of his amusement and definite proof that he was feeling sassy.

“Tease.”

Harry grinned.

“Always. Remember, a firm tug is all it takes for those ropes to disappear, don’t force yourself to wear them for any longer than you’re comfortable.”

Draco inclined his head.

“I won’t, Sir.”

“Good, very good.”

* * *

* * *


	39. Shine A Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're slowly but surely getting to the end of this wonderful tale but fear not, I am planning a third part, as I would like to play with a different aspect of a D/s dynamic within a relationship entirely.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and took some inspiration from recent discussions with my own rigger, as well as a few online rope bondage classes.
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> Love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Harry didn’t need to ask whether Draco was nervous. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked Draco that question. He prided himself on his ability to read Draco, read him like the open book Draco was ― in front of him, at least.

Right now, the signs were all there. Even if one didn’t know Draco, one had to be entirely oblivious not to pick up the various signals Draco was emitting. Some consciously, but most unconsciously and purely because he was struggling to control his emotions.

Then again, Harry wasn’t at all concerned with what other people thought when they saw Draco in his current state. What he cared about―at all times―and habitually made a priority was helping Draco to work through his agitation.

At this moment in time, Draco’s body language spoke volumes. He was restless and unable to remain calm and composed. So far, Harry had watched him pace up and down, weaving his way between the backstage staff like a caged animal desperately looking for a hidden escape route.

Draco had moved with the agility of a snake, doing his very best to avoid brushing up against anyone or anything. However, when a loud round of applause and cheers had echoed from the room on the other side of the curtain, he’d frozen on the spot.

His eyes had drifted to the tiny gap in the heavy triple-layered burgundy velvet curtain. After staring at it for a few seconds, he’d turned his head to glance at the green emergency exit sign above the fire-resistant steel door on the far side of the small backstage area.

Even though Draco had stopped pacing now, he was still extremely fidgety. Instead of repeatedly walking back and forth, he had started to continuously twist his engagement ring around the third finger of his left hand, first turning it to the left, then turning it to the right.

A minute ago, when Stefan had popped his head around the side of the curtain to ask him whether he was ready for his speech, Draco had avoided making straight eye contact and flashed Caleb’s partner the fakest smile, Harry had ever seen. It had been such a bogus reaction, without an ounce of sincerity behind it, that it had actually given Harry pause.

_Time for a little intervention_, he thought.

Stepping out from behind the curtain, where he’d been hiding to be able to keep an eye on Draco, he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat.

Fourteen pairs of eyes, including Draco’s, fell on him. He tilted his head to the side and without saying a single word, he motioned for everyone to clear out. They did so without questioning his order and in less than thirty seconds, it was just him and Draco left.

Harry waited patiently for the steel door to fall closed behind the last person, then he made his move. Surefooted, he strode across the room, allowing his confidence to roll off him in waves, knowing that Draco’s subconsciousness would pick up on his own emotions, then attempt to mirror them.

He moved and acted without appearing arrogant about it but as though it was second nature. It only took him a few strides to cross the room and slowing down, he stopped right in front of Draco, who stared at him with the pupils of his beautiful silvery-grey eyes blown wide open, surprise evident in them.

Harry smiled and reaching out, he took Draco’s hand, slipped his thumb underneath the sleeve of his light-grey leather jacket and the black long-sleeved shirt he wore underneath. He found the pulse point on the inside of Draco’s wrist with practised ease and without having to search for it. That gesture, too, had become second nature to him. Applying a moderate amount of pressure, Harry deliberately drew Draco’s attention to his touch. He held it right there, captivating his little prince with his innate ability to get under his skin.

Draco relaxed visibly and feeling pleased Harry watched as some of the tension, his little prince had been struggling to cope with, gradually dwindled away. It slowly seeped out of him, falling away like a heavy burden, he no longer felt the need to carry around with him.

Harry loosened his firm grip on Draco’s wrist and instead of digging the tip of his thumb against Draco’s skin, he drew slow and even circles.

At the familiar touch, Draco let out a soft sigh. The sound escaped his slightly parted deep-pink lips, and a tiny shudder surged through him. Yet more of that unhealthy nervous tension, he hadn’t been able to find a suitable outlet for, left him, and Harry pulled him a little closer.

“I thought you said you’d be busy helping Caleb.”

Draco spoke softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper. His genuine surprise at Harry’s presence was reasonably evident.

Harry smiled.

He let a soft and warm bubble of laughter to rise up through him and allowed it to escape past his slightly-parted lips, filling the room with his signature chuckle. It was warm like the early rays of the summer sun, thick as pure, golden honey and carried the same sort of natural sweetness as the sugary nectar found deep inside the centre of a healthy beehive.

Draco blinked in response to Harry’s reaction. Harry briefly squeezed his wrist, then continued to draw steady and calming rings over his pulse point, gently coaxing Draco’s own confidence out of him, using touch rather than words to remind him of the fierce dragon he really was.

“My little prince, I’m never going to be too busy to take care of you when you need me the most. I made you a promise, I made a commitment when I signed that contract. I’ll always be there for you. There won’t ever be any exceptions to that rule.”

Draco’s crystal-clear silvery-grey eyes slowly filled with unshed tears. He shut and opened his eyes quickly to try and stop the drops of salty liquid, currently irritating his eyes, from falling and rolling down his cheeks.

Harry pulled Draco closer, slipped his free hand around Draco’s waist and pulling Draco’s shirt out of his tailored black chinos, he pressed the whole of his hand against his little prince’s lower back, then brushed his lips against Draco’s ear. Lingering, he briefly closed his eyes, and concentrating, he cast a non-verbal wandless spell.

It wasn’t anything fancy.

In fact, it was nothing more than a very mild warming charm, but Harry knew, from experience, that the gentle wave of warmth presently rushing up Draco’s spine and spreading through his body was almost more powerful than an actual Calming Draught.

Just like the potion, the result was instantaneous, and smiling against Draco’s ear, Harry whispered quiet words of reassurance. His voice was silky-smooth, a snug promise and a firm reminder of just how much he loved Draco, how much he meant to him and the fact that he treasured every aspect of their relationship.

“I’m here, and I’ll always be here, you know that. I’ll be here for as long as you consent to me being here, my little prince.”

Not waiting for Draco’s reaction, Harry pulled him into a comforting embrace and tightened his hold, offering safety and security, offering a home, a sanctuary, offering familiarity.

Harry felt Draco’s arms wrap themselves around him, and when Draco hugged him tight, he simply shuffled a tiny bit closer, entirely eradicating the small gap between their bodies.

Draco buried his face against Harry’s bare neck and in response, Harry squeezed that little bit tighter and hummed softly.

They stood like this―lost in the moment―for several minutes and Harry made no move to pull back or to break away. He left it up to Draco, waiting patiently until he was ready to face the world again.

Harry knew that this wasn’t a moment of weakness.

Draco wasn’t afraid as such, he was just nervous, and an avalanche of anxiety-inducing hormones had the weirdest of effects on a person’s thoughts and the human body itself. In that situation, regaining control wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to achieve, and a little bit of help often went a long way.

Most of the time, Draco was well able to deal with everything life threw at him, but his present headspace and their current environment meant that he relied on Harry a little more than he usually would and Harry was okay with that, more than fine. Right now, Draco wanted Harry to take care of him and control him, and Harry yearned to give him everything he wanted and needed and then some.

Taking control of Draco came easy to Harry. Mostly because Draco had no qualms about letting him, but also because it was simply an intrinsic reaction to Draco’s willing submission. It was almost second nature, much like breathing, eating, and sleeping, yet Harry never quite allowed his own control over his domination to slip. He preferred to remain grounded and present in the moment, at least with one foot. At the very best of times, letting his dominant side control every aspect of him seemed too risqué.

Forcing himself to remain aware of his every move, action, and decision meant that he got to enjoy himself a lot more. It meant that whatever Draco felt as he slipped deeper and deeper into his submission, Harry felt the same on his end of the spectrum, though only up to the degree he allowed himself to feel the sensations.

It turned his domination and Draco’s submission into a thrill, an exciting rush. It was a sweet high he loved chasing; a delightful game of push and pull, a conscious back and forth between two consenting adults.

Feeling Draco pull back, Harry loosened his hold, and when Draco focused on him and looked at him with steady silvery-grey eyes that were both clear and determined, Harry smiled.

Draco huffed out a breath of warm laughter, a sign of genuine amusement. Surprisingly though, there was a hint of mild annoyance to it, and Harry tilted his head slightly to the side and raised a single eyebrow in a silent question.

“Considering that a large portion of my job literally entails standing in front of a bunch of people and making a statement or questioning a defendant, witness or suspect, you’d think I’d consider this a breeze, but no, the idea of talking to a bunch of kinky folks terrifies me decidedly more than stepping up to the bar and prosecuting a triple murderer,” Draco said with a huge sigh and a resigned expression.

Harry laughed.

“Well, if it at all helps, you could always think of tonight’s audience as a whole bunch of triple murderers.”

“While you, an Auror, look the other way?”

Harry grinned and shrugged.

“Muggles. Not my jurisdiction, unless, of course, the Met wants me on their payroll, in which case I might reconsider,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes at his words, and Harry gave him a cheeky wink but didn’t say anymore.

“You wouldn’t. Being Director Potter keeps you busy enough, there’s no way I’ll consent to you loaning your skills to the Met.”

Harry chuckled.

“And who made you the boss? Though, all things considered, you utilising your vetoing rights is probably for the better. I don’t think Muggle criminals would appreciate my preferred method of apprehension. Steel handcuffs are for the lazy, at least ropes require a bit of talent and style.”

Draco laughed.

“They don’t really. It’s just that you insist on being a perfectionist.”

Harry clicked his tongue.

“Cheeky.”

Draco winked, his silvery-grey eyes flashing with pure unadulterated mischief.

“You love it, Director Potter, _Sir_.”

Harry smiled.

“Guilty as charged, Prosecutor Malfoy.”

Draco chuckled.

“I know my man.”

“As do I,” Harry replied. “Which is precisely why I decided to come backstage and find you. I know we’ve talked about it at length, but nobody knows that you’re one of the speakers tonight and Caleb does have a backup. So, if you want out, just let me know. I do not want you to force yourself to do this. It won’t bring me even an ounce of joy if I get the feeling that you’re doing this for me.”

Draco sighed.

He allowed his shoulders to fall forward and lowering his head slightly, he looked up at Harry from under lowered lashes.

For a moment, he remained silent, and Harry could feel some of the tension from earlier making a slow comeback. He adjusted his grip on Draco’s wrist and for a few seconds, he stopped drawing circles.

Instead, he pressed his thumb against Draco’s pulse point. It took a minute or so before the familiar and calming touch took full effect, but eventually, Draco lifted his head again and looked at him with a faint smile ghosting around the edges of his mouth.

Harry reciprocated and reducing the amount of pressure against Draco’s pulse point, he returned to drawing slow and steady circles. His touch worked its magic and the tension that had been threatening to take over, flowed away, allowing Draco to relax and focus.

He took a few deep breaths to further centre himself, then smiled, mouthing a soundless ‘_thank you_’ before attempting to explain himself and his feelings.

“I’m not doing this for you, Harry, I would never. Your request would make this a hard limit. I’m doing this for myself, you know that. I think I have a story to tell, I just can’t seem to find the courage to actually do it.”

Harry smiled.

“I know, but just remember that you’re still allowed to change your mind, even at the last minute. Despite your decision to take an active role in Caleb’s Mystery Speaker Event, we all know and respect the fact that you’re a private person.”

Draco let out a small sigh.

“I can do this; I just don’t know what to do with my nerves. It drives me spare that I can’t seem to get a grip on them. I’m not usually like this, you know that. If I can handle the idea of you tying me and then suspending me from a bamboo rod, dangling from the ceiling of our playroom, then I should be able to handle this.”

Harry took a moment to respond and to bridge his intentional silence, he once again applied a bit more pressure to Draco’s wrist, drawing circle after circle.

Draco briefly stared down at his hand, and a small smile curled around the edge of his mouth, drawing its corners upward. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but for now, it was good enough for Draco.

“If you let me, I might be able to help with that.”

Curiosity piqued; Draco’s full attention was at once focused on Harry, who smirked.

“What do you have in mind?”

Harry laughed.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No-huh. Not so fast, my little prince, all in good time.”

Draco frowned in response.

“There isn’t much time left until I’ve got to be on stage if I do manage to convince myself to step through the gap in that curtain.”

Harry chuckled.

“You don’t have to be anywhere, and I don’t need more than twenty minutes and your explicit trust.”

Draco huffed out a breath of laughter.

His eyes twinkled with amusement, and there was no sign of any sort of underlying annoyance.

“You’ve had that for a couple of years now, Sir.”

“Cheeky little brat you, don’t think I won’t put you over my knee just because we’re at the club.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and gave Harry a challenging look.

“Will you now, _Sir_? Maybe that’s exactly what I want? A flaming-red arse might stop me from overthinking this whole thing.”

Harry laughed.

“Oh, not to worry, my little prince. I’ll give you exactly what you want, but on my terms.”

“Nothing new there.”

Without warning, Harry let his hand drop from Draco’s lower back to his bottom and squeezing hard, he forced a yelp from his little prince, then applied a little more force still, pinching the pale flesh hidden underneath the fabric of Draco’s clothes.

“You were saying?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Draco opened his mouth, but before he could actually respond to Harry’s rhetorical question, Harry clicked his tongue.

“Shush, my love, and a word of advice. If I was you, I’d think carefully, my little prince, lest I do decide to make good on my promise. Trust me, if I do give you a flaming-red arse, you won’t be able to string any coherent thoughts together. You’ll be too busy lying curled around my feet, whimpering and begging me for a bit of relief.”

“Now you’re just an unfair tease, Sir.”

Harry laughed.

He let go of Draco’s arse cheek and smacked it hard enough to cause Draco to feel the flare of his strike straight through two layers of clothing.

Draco yelped in response and grabbing Draco’s arse, Harry squeezed it again, knowing it would intensify the fresh burn of his smack.

“Still think I’m an unfair tease, my love?”

Draco blinked, then shook his head.

Harry clicked his tongue in obvious disapproval.

“What was that now, my little prince?”

“No, Sir.”

Harry raised his eyebrow.

“No _what_, Sir?” he asked, pointedly.

He squeezed Draco’s arse cheek so hard that his little prince yelped and tried to wriggle away from him, but Harry was having none of it. He had an iron grip, and he wasn’t about to let go.

Draco spluttered, made one last attempt to free himself but stopped when Harry gave him a pointed look that spoke volumes.

That was enough for Draco to stop, and with a resigned sigh, he answered Harry’s question.

“No, Sir, you’re not an unfair tease.”

Harry smiled.

“I thought so. Now, I’ve something that might help you with your nerves. It’ll make you feel like I’m on stage with you and I think it will help you to stay calm and focus on telling your story. Interested?”

This time, the smile that curled around Draco’s lips actually made it all the way up to his eyes, and he nodded. An endearing aura of excitement and anticipation surrounded him, and Harry flashed him a cheeky grin, then deviously decided to push Draco towards giving him a proper answer as well as addressing him correctly.

“What did you say, my little prince? I didn’t quite catch your answer.”

For a moment, it appeared like Draco might roll his eyes at him, but in the end, he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

“Yes, please, Sir. I’d like your help.”

Harry gave Draco a positively devilish smile.

“Well, if you’re already asking so nicely, there’s just no way I can deny you.”

A soft smirk graced Draco’s face and offering his hand, Harry patiently waited for Draco to accept it. Draco didn’t hesitate for long, and the moment he placed his hand in Harry’s, Harry gripped it tightly and pulled Draco across the room.

He opened the steel doors and together they made their way through one of the many dimly lit corridors at Pandora’s Box. They walked all the way to the end, and although Harry couldn’t see Draco’s face, he could clearly sense that his little prince itching to ask him where they were going.

Biting back a smirk, Harry wondered whether Draco would manage to control himself or whether he would give in to the temptation to ask.

They climbed up two flights of stairs, then Harry let Draco down another corridor. This one wasn’t as dimly lid, and most of the doors here didn’t follow the club’s open-door policy. They weren’t required to. These weren’t playrooms, but offices and storage rooms and patrons weren’t generally allowed up to the second floor, and if they were, in fact, escorted up to one of the staff rooms, it was probably to finalise their permanent departure and life-long ban from the club.

Pandora’s Box frowned upon rule breakers and those who didn’t respect the community and its people. That was why it was one of Britain’s most exclusive BDSM Dungeons and notoriously difficult to get into. The vetting process was strict and even an excellent and reliable recommendation from an upstanding member of the community only improved things marginally.

Harry stopped in front of the very last door at the end of the corridor, and placing his hand on the door handle, he turned his head and smiled at Draco.

“Trust me?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, then pushed the handle down and opening the door, he motioned for Draco to step into the room. Draco did so without hesitation, but when Harry followed him and closed the door behind him, he turned around and frowned.

“Aren’t the doors supposed to stay open at all times?”

Harry smiled.

He nodded.

“The doors to the playrooms, yes, but this is Caleb’s office.”

Draco’s frowned deepened.

Harry chuckled.

“He owns half of the club, though hardly anyone knows that he does. Keep that little titbit to yourself, won’t you, my little prince?”

Draco pretended to zip his lips.

Harry laughed.

He let his hand slowly slide up Draco’s arm, and when he’d reached his upper arm, he squeezed it gently and leant in, pressing his lips to Draco’s ear.

“Will you be good for me, my love?”

Draco huffed out a breath of warm air and nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry smiled against Draco’s lips.

“Good boy. Strip then. You can keep your socks and boxers on, but everything else needs to go.”

He pulled back and caught the confused look Draco shot him, but instead of explaining things further, he lifted his hand and cast a non-verbal, wandless locking charm at the door, then walked around the large and massive black desk that stood in the centre of the room. The wall behind the desk was lined with several black wooden cabinets and heading for the one on the far left, Harry opened it up. As he opened the door, a light inside the cabinet automatically turned itself on, and he was presented with a large selection of exquisite natural colour hemp rope.

Following an expert glance at the colour-coded whipped ends, Harry reached for a coil of rope with dark-blue whippings. 50ft of rope was precisely what he needed, and after weighing it in his hand, he brought it up to his nose and inhaled deeply, absorbing the scent of freshly sterilised rope. A smile spread all over his face and with the rope still firmly pressed against his face, he reached inside the cabinet to retrieve a pair of medical safety shears. He deposited them in the back pocket of his jeans, then closed the doors of the cabinet and turned around to face Draco.

Despite the questioning look that had been on his face, Draco had obeyed him and followed his instructions. As told, he’d taken off all of his clothes, except, of course, for his black boxer briefs and matching black socks. What pleased Harry especially was the fact that Draco had folded his clothes neatly and placed them on top of one of the two chairs that stood in front of Caleb’s desk.

Harry smiled and lowered the thick coil of rope in his hand, then casually leant against the side of the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest. He let his eyes slowly trail down the centre of Draco’s bare chest, lingered on the embroidered words written across the waistband of Draco’s boxers, and smirked when his little prince shivered in response to having put himself on display for Harry.

“Now that’s a sight to behold, sweet one,” he said with deliberately teasing words.

In response, Draco gnawed on his bottom lip, pulled it into his mouth and chewed on it.

For a moment, Harry let him, and instead of reprimanding him, he simply stood there and watched, but a short while later, he did click his tongue and shook his head.

“No, my little prince,” he said.

Draco briefly averted his eyes and gazed down at the floor, then lifted his head and nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered, verbally affirming that he’d heard Harry.

It was part of how they played. With direct questions, Harry always wanted a verbal response. He was very good at picking up small cues and interpreting body language. Those sort of non-verbal reactions were reserved for different types of play. Mostly for some forms of edging, wax play and rope bondage. All situations where Draco was very likely to lose himself in his own head and find it hard to articulate himself properly using full sentences or even single words to provide Harry with cues as to how he felt about what was happening. Then again, this wasn’t a scene. Harry had no intention of abusing Caleb’s trust in him and ignoring the club’s strict policies on the open-door-only play. All he wanted was to give Draco a little bit of himself to take on stage with him.

He smiled and pushing himself away from the desk, Harry slowly approached Draco. As he walked closer, he freed the rope’s bight and looping his finger through it, he dropped the remainder of the coil onto the ground in the small space between him and Draco. The rope landed on the floor with a distinct thud and Draco shuddered in response to it.

Harry reached out and pressed the palm of his hand against Draco’s cheek, allowing his little prince to draw a bit of comfort from him as he leant into the gentle touch.

“Ready, my love?”

Draco inclined his head.

“Yes, Sir.”

He breathed the words rather than actually speaking them, and Harry smiled.

“Such a good boy. This will help. It’ll keep you focused; I promise. The harness will make it feel like I’m right there with you, holding you tight, keeping you safe.”

Draco’s eyes turned a bit watery, but no tears fell. He stood straight, arms loosely dangling at his sides. His feet were slightly spread apart to help him stay balanced. With a quick and calculated appraisal of Draco’s torso, Harry moved to tie a few knots into the rope, preparing it for a simple but effective Hishi Karada diamond harness.

Since he was familiar with Draco’s body, knew it like the back of his own hand, he didn’t need to measure any of the distances but was able to correctly judge precisely where he needed to place a rope.

Less than a minute later, he was ready and leaning in, Harry pressed a lingering kiss to Draco’s lips, then pulled back and slipped the rope around his little prince’s neck. It sat tightly and snuggly at the back of Draco’s neck and loosely dangled down the front, though not for long. With nimble fingers, Harry positioned the rope exactly where he needed it to be, guided it between Draco’s legs, and giving it a firm tug, he added a bit of tension.

In response, Draco hissed and shuffled to regain his balance.

Harry smiled.

“OK?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir,” he replied.

Harry gave him another kiss.

“Good boy,” he praised.

Draco hummed softly and adding a bit more tension to the rope, Harry briefly allowed it to cut into Draco’s skin. He then loosened the rope a bit, fastened it at the back, then continued to create a beautiful but straightforward chest harness that wrapped itself snuggly around Draco’s torso, framing his nipples and navel. With each diamond, Harry added more tension to the harness and checking that the rope wasn’t twisted and sat where he wanted it to rest, he ran his fingers along each line, checking the position of each knot and each wrap.

“How does this feel?” he asked, pausing to wait for Draco’s response before he loaded the last bit of tension to the harness and tied it off.

“Good, Sir,” Draco replied.

His response was clear, his voice firm and steady and his eyes focused. He was well aware of his surroundings, and Harry smiled.

“Anything uncomfortable?”

Draco shook his head.

“No, Sir, it sits just as it should.”

“Wonderful.”

Nodding to himself, Harry gave the rope a firm tug to load more tension, then stepped behind Draco to add one final knot to finish his masterpiece and secure it tightly. With enough rope left, he spontaneously decided to wreathe a double coin knot into the harness. He found a place for it just above the small of Draco’s back and once he was happy with the look of it, he burned the remainder of the rope, neatly tying it off to avoid an unsightly rope end sticking out. In all likelihood, nobody but him would see the rope, but he still didn’t like it when his artwork looked like a thoughtless and haphazard creation.

When it came to ropes, Harry always strived to achieve perfection. He wanted his rope art to look beautiful, even when he tied Draco for the sake of tying him. Harry mostly blamed it on the thrill he got from feeling the rope flow through his fingers and guiding it as he created knot after knot. He checked the harness one last time, then stepped back in front of Draco and wriggling his index finger underneath some rope, he curled it around the countless twisted strands of hemp, and gave it a firm tug, forcing Draco to sway to adjust his balance.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Draco answered with a contend and serene smile.

“Never better,” he replied, his voice low and silky.

“Perfect. Can you move?”

Harry uncurled his finger from around the rope, and taking a step back, he allowed Draco to test moving with his harness. At first, his movements were sluggish and awkward, then he adjusted to the rope and worked around its restrictions as he gradually found a way to move with the rope rather than against it.

“This feels so good, Harry,” he said.

Harry chuckled softly and pressing the flat of his hand against Draco’s chest, he let his fingers trail along one of the rope diamonds, causing delicious vibrations to run through the rope and tease Draco, who shuddered and moved within his harness.

“You look good enough to eat, my little prince,” Harry whispered, “if only we had enough time, I’d absolutely bend you over and have my wicked way with you. Alas, now is not the time to entertain such thoughts, but I’m sure we’ll find a bit of time to do so later on.”

Draco chuckled.

“Deviant.”

Harry grinned and winked.

“Always. After all, this is how you like me best.”

“Or tolerate you.”

Harry laughed.

He smacked Draco’s arse affectionately and then told him to get dressed.

Draco stuck out his bottom lip in a deliberate pout, and catching it, Harry sucked it into his mouth and gave Draco a deeply passionate snog that left him slightly breathless and starry-eyed.

“Get dressed, my little prince. I won’t say it a third time. Or perhaps I will, but only after I bend you over my knee.”

Draco smiled.

“Promise, Sir?”

Harry chuckled softly.

“Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”

Draco shook his head.

“No, but I’ll ask anyway.”

“Cheeky.”

“You love it.”

“Perhaps.”

Harry took another step back and putting a decent amount of distance between him and Draco, he gave him the space he needed to put his clothes back on. He wasn’t overly excited about watching Draco gradually hide all that delicate pale skin underneath his chinos and his long-sleeved shirt. Still, he pulled himself together and decided to savour all his devious ideas until after the show, when he planned to bring Draco back to their playroom and take the rest of the night to have his wicked way with him and ravish him.

“You do realise that I can tell that you’re fucking me with your eyes.”

Harry laughed.

“Actually, I hadn’t got there yet. In my head, I was still teasing your nipples, putting a set of pretty snake-shaped nipple clamps on them and giving them a few tugs here and there while I tell you exactly how I plan to blow your mind.”

A small whimper escaped past Draco’s parted lips, and he paused tying the laces of his shoes. Since he was crouching on the floor, he had to look up to see Harry’s face.

Harry winked at him, then stepped forward and squeezed Draco’s shoulder.

“I’ve a pair of safety shears on me. If you start to feel uncomfortable or you think you need out of the ropes, signal me, and I’ll get you off the stage and deal with it. Do not wait until it’s too late. I’d rather cut those ropes and find out that you’re actually alright than deal with you having a full-blown panic attack because you think you can’t breathe.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I mean it, Draco, don’t you play the hero just because you’re up on that stage telling your story to the kinky world. Your safety is paramount, and for this reason, I will tell Charlie and Caleb that you’re wearing a rope harness. That’s non-negotiable. Safety first.”

Draco nodded.

“I know, and you know that I won’t take any chances and push my own boundaries.”

“Good, I trust you to listen to your body and honour the signs, my little prince.”

“I will, Sir, I swear.”

“Perfect. Now, ready to face the world and share your experiences?”

For a moment, Draco remained silent, then he nodded. He finished tying his shoelaces, then slowly rose to his feet and straightened up, wriggling within the confines of the rope as it moved against his bare skin.

“I wish you knew just how amazing this feels, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

“Ah, but I do know, my little prince. I know exactly how amazing this feels.”

“It’s so snug and safe and perfect. I absolutely love it.”

“And I love you.”

Draco tilted his head to the side and blinked. His eyes glistened with a sheen of unshed tears, but he looked happy, relaxed and content.

Harry reached out, ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and pulled him into a slow kiss.

“I love having you in my ropes, my little prince. You’re absolutely stunning and so very sexy.”

Draco hummed into the kiss, and Harry grudgingly broke away. He kissed the tip of Draco’s nose, and they both chuckled.

“I feel like I could conquer the world.”

Harry chuckled.

“Do it, my love,” he said, then slipped his hand into Draco’s and squeezed it softly. “Come on, I’ll take you back and wait until you’re ready to step onto the stage before I take my seat in the front row.”

* * *

* * *


	40. Yours, Forever - Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was going to turn this into a monster chapter but that would mean you'd have to wait at one more week for an update. So, instead, you're getting a little over 7K today, and then a grand finish in about a week. How does that sound? It also means an extra chapter, 41 instead of 40... ;-)
> 
> I hope you're all keeping safe.
> 
> Much love,  
Selly

* * *

* * *

Draco inhaled deeply, deeper than he had ever before.

He concentrated and let the swell of oxygen travel right down to the deepest corner of his belly and holding his breath, he trapped all the air in the lowest pit of his stomach for several seconds.

As he did so, he closed his eyes and let his hand slip into the right pocket of his leather jacket.

Inside was a frayed piece of hemp rope.

Harry had given it to him several months ago.

It was from the coil of rope Harry had used to fashion him a chest harness ― the first one he’d ever worn in public, in this very place no less.

The club – Pandora’s Box; a place he, after the fire whip incident, had been quite unsure about. But a strange force and the knowledge that he would always be safe with Harry at his side had eventually pulled him back.

That time, after they’d returned home, and Harry had taken the rope off, he’d used a precise severing charm to cut off a piece of the rope to gift to him. At first, Draco had been quite unsure what to do with it, but something inside of him had been reluctant to let go of it, to part company.

Draco had, for the longest time, worn it around his wrist, happy to feel the hemp slowly turn soft as it rubbed against his skin. It reminded him of Harry and the side of their relationship that had taken him on a rollercoaster ride of self-exploration and discovery.

Often, especially during a stressful workday, he’d found himself slipping his finger underneath the simple wristband to give it a gentle tug. The slight roughness of the rope always helped him to remain grounded. It was a physical reminder of the fact that Harry had made him a promise; a promise Draco knew Harry would never break.

_I’ll always put you first, my little prince._

The words echoed in Draco’s head and smiling, he took the worn piece of rope out of his jacket pocket and closed his fingers around it, forming a tight fist.

Harry had, without the use of magic, quite expertly whipped both ends of the rope to ensure it wouldn’t fall apart, and Draco dug the fingernail of his index finger into the inconspicuous black whipping.

He opened his eyes and with his smile still firmly in place, he exhaled slowly, then breathed evenly, refusing to allow a simple bout of stage fright to get the better of him. He remembered Harry’s more recent words of encouragement.

_I’m never going to be too busy to take care of you when you need me the most._

The words washed over him and filled him with the kind of warmth and secure feeling only Harry could give him. Draco relished in it for a moment, then he remembered the chest harness, Harry had put on him earlier. It had been the perfect distraction and a most welcome surprise.

Without a conscious thought to control the action, his hand moved up to the back of his neck and feeling the rope, he allowed his smile to grow, firmly tugging the corners of his mouth upward.

Somehow, and Harry had an extraordinary talent for that, the harness fitted him so perfectly that he could barely feel it.

Harry’s ropes did that to him.

Always, and without exception.

Unless he actively thought about the tightness of the ropes, repeatedly coiling themselves around his body, he couldn’t feel them at all. At least not when Harry put the kind of harness on him, he could, without difficulty, wear for several hours at a time. He supposed part of the reason for that was that over the last few years he’d gotten well used to being tied up, but Draco was also reasonably sure that Harry’s rigging skills had something to do with it.

Of course, things were different when Harry tied him up to force him to feel the burn of the ropes as they restrained him and took away his ability to move around freely.

It was in those moments that he struggled to focus on anything but the ropes and whatever uncomfortable position, Harry had put him in.

Most the time, he hated every minute of the torture, Harry subjected him to, but his dislike was the kind of hate that disappeared the moment he saw how much joy Harry derived from watching him suffer in his ropes.

Harry didn’t torture him to cause him more pain and discomfort than he could take, and he never did to get back at him or deliberately cause him excruciating pain.

It was always part of their play; pre-negotiated and written down in their contract, which they reviewed and amended regularly.

It was something that Harry liked, something that gave him pleasure, and Draco felt extremely excited whenever he saw those emotions appear on Harry’s face. They usually lingered for the duration of their scene and as well as for quite some time after that.

Harry’s enjoyment was the kind of drug Draco needed to lose himself in the moment; it was what allowed him to slip into the sort of headspace where he couldn’t think of anything more important than fully immersing himself in the experience. In those moments, he lived only for Harry’s ropes and giving up all control came as easy to him as breathing.

Draco made a conscious effort to pull himself out of his musings before he descended too deeply into his own head, and rubbed the tips of his index and middle finger over the rope that sat snuggly at the back of his neck. His touch travelled down the entire length of the rope, sending pleasant vibrations through his torso, and for a moment it felt like Harry had wrapped his arms and legs around him and was hugging him tightly, refusing to let him go.

_I’ve got you, my little prince._

Harry had a knack for comforting him just how he needed and liked to be comforted and slowly dropping his arm back down to his side, Draco nodded to himself.

“I’m ready,” he whispered into the empty room.

A wave of serene calmness washed over him, affirming his own words.

He wasn’t doing this for Harry or as a favour to Caleb or Stefan, no, he was doing this for himself. It was going to be a new experience, a challenge designed to test the very boundaries of his own comfort zones, and in his opinion, he couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate day to do it.

Today wasn’t only his birthday but also Harry’s and his third anniversary. Draco couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the day, apart from perhaps kneeling at Harry’s feet and offering him complete control. Then again, there would always be time for doing that later. He wasn’t going to deny Harry the pleasure of enjoying his submission and welcoming Harry’s dominance with an open heart, a trusting mind, a willing body, and every inch of his soul.

The chance to speak at one of Caleb’s events wasn’t one that would present itself quite so soon again, and after much deliberation, Draco had come to the conclusion that the chance to share his own story wasn’t something he wanted to miss out on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and everyone else in-between, I’m going to take over from my sweet boy―_thank you, Stefan_―and introduce the next mystery speaker personally. This one is a dear friend of mine, and as such, I consider introducing him to be a great honour. He’s the only man who ever dared to stand up to me with absolute and unwavering confidence, never once giving me an inch, but boldly giving me all the sass instead. I had the pleasure to watch him grow into the lifestyle and embrace it with open arms. I’m truly excited to listen to him share his story with the room, so, please put your hands together and give a warm welcome to our next speaker, Draco, the most menacing of all dragons.”

Draco chuckled softly under his breath in response to Caleb’s charmingly attentive introduction and reaching through the tiny gap between the heavy triple-layered burgundy velvet curtains, he stepped through it and out onto the stage.

A loud round of applause, led by Caleb, who was waiting for him in the centre of the stage, echoed through the room, and breathing deeply to calm his fluttering nerves, Draco confidently approached Caleb. They shook hands, and Caleb patted him on the back of his shoulder before handing him the hand-held microphone. As he did so, he leant in close, and for a brief moment, he pressed his lips to Draco’s ear.

“You’ve got this, sassy one,” he murmured.

A pleasant shiver surged through Draco, and a smile spread across his lips. Yes, he most definitely could do this. Caleb stepped back, gave him a curt nod, and Draco watched him jump off the stage. He found his seat in the front row, right in front of the stage. Stefan had already taken his seat on a chair to Caleb’s left and Harry, who had thrown one leg thrown over the other and had folded his hands loosely in his lap, occupied a comfortable-looking upholstered chair on his right. Charlie sat next to Harry, and Liam was kneeling on the floor with his side lightly pressed up against Charlie’s leg.

The moment Draco had sought him out, his gaze drifted towards Harry and their eyes locked. They shared a moment, and Harry smiled encouragingly. Draco couldn’t help but smile in return and frayed piece of rope still in hand, he gripped the microphone tighter, mentally readying himself for his speech.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that someone had adjusted the spotlight and blinking he glanced around the room but couldn’t see much more than a sea of shadows, which suited him just fine.

For a moment, Draco felt the butterflies in the pit of his stomach flutter to life, trying to entice him to give in to his nerves and contemplate throwing the microphone away and dashing off stage. He smothered that thought and centred himself instead.

“Good evening and thank you all, especially Sir Caleb, for having me. It is an honour.”

His voice travelled through the microphone and Muggle technology amplified it with the same intensity of a Sonorus charm, effortlessly carrying his words through the room. The thick hushed silence told him that everyone was waiting for him to start sharing his story.

“Before I dive into my story, I’d like to share a little poem with all of you. It’s something I wrote, over some time, as part of coming to terms with my desire to submit to my partner and it’s been true ever since. In fact, each time I go back to it, it resonates with me differently, affects me differently and leaves me with different memories.”

Draco lowered the microphone a bit and discreetly cleared his throat. Stefan had told him that most speakers opted for a microphone stand, but in his particular instance, Draco preferred having something to hold on to. With Harry’s rope in one hand and the microphone in the other, he felt focused, centred, grounded. It helped to keep the desire to wring his hands together nervously and pull them apart again at bay.

Taking a deep breath, Draco dove into his poem, reciting the words with complete confidence.

By the third word of the first line, his gaze was firmly fixed on Harry, and without breaking their eye contact, he spoke with conviction. He felt his self-assurance grow slowly and steadily, and with each line, he lost himself a little further in the moment, relaxed, and enjoyed himself a bit more.

As he stood there, in front of a crowd he couldn’t really see, with his gaze firmly fixed on the one man who had turned his life upside down in the most unexpected of ways, he realised that this wasn’t much different from delivering a speech in front of the Wizengamot. That was something he was extremely apt at. As the words poured from his lips, he gave himself over to the incredibly exciting sensation of watching Harry and trying to identify all the emotions that flitted across his face.

There was love, of course, and respect. There was admiration, belief, desire, want, lust, eagerness, fire, and the urge to possess, to hold, to have, to keep, to own, not just for a moment, but for all eternity.

During the start of a scene, when they slowly worked each other up, it was around this time, that Draco lost the will to resist Harry’s hunger for domination. This time, however, he remained strangely focused, composed, and grounded right there in the moment, letting exhilaration flood through him. His heartbeat quickened, and he felt each and every single word, that fell from his lips, course through his veins. They found each and every single one of the over seven trillion nerves in his body, and together they ignited his magical core, rooting him firmly in the here and now.

“_I am Yours.  
Yours to taunt, Yours to spank,  
Yours to protect, Yours to fuck,  
Yours to taste, Yours to caress,  
Yours to whip, Yours to kiss,  
Yours to inspect, Yours to bite,  
Yours to give pain, Yours to take pleasure,  
Yours to love, Yours to spread open, wide.  
  
Until no parts of me remain unseen,  
untouched, undiscovered,  
by You.  
  
I am Yours.  
  
I am Yours to break,  
but never left broken.  
  
I am Yours to make wait,  
but not forgotten.  
  
I am Yours to own,  
but never take for granted.  
  
I am Yours to hold tightly,  
but not to keep prisoner.  
  
I am Yours to set free,  
but never let go._”

Draco paused for a short moment and as he fell silent, a wave of applause, led by Harry, who’d stood up and raised his hands above his head to clap, surprised him. He took a tiny step backwards and smiling, Draco patiently waited for his audience to settle down again.

They did a few seconds after Harry took his seat and chuckling into the microphone, Draco smiled.

“Thank you. It’s my birthday today―”

The remainder of Draco’s sentence, a brief explanation of how it was also Harry’s and his anniversary, was lost in the cheers, claps and whistles that filled the room as various people ― Harry, Caleb, Stefan, Charlie, and Liam included ― first wished him a happy birthday, then unanimously broke into a congratulatory song. It was messy and off-key, but Draco loved every single second of it.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed past the growing lump in his throat. His gaze found Harry’s, who’d once again risen from his seat. He was singing along with everyone else at the top of his lungs.

Draco smiled. It was a somewhat shy smile, not because he actually felt shy, but because he felt a bit overwhelmed.

Harry winked, and a crooked smile flitted around the edges of his mouth.

“I love you.”

Draco didn’t need to hear Harry say those three words, he’d become quite apt at reading them from Harry’s lips and laughing, Draco felt the lump in his throat dissolve. He raised his hand slightly, allowing the frayed piece of hemp rope to dangle in the air. He watched as Harry’s eyes briefly drifted towards it, then locked back onto his.

“I love you too,” he mouthed the words right back at Harry, who smiled broadly.

It took several more minutes for the room to quieten down and once everyone had settled ― Caleb raising his hand to motion for silence had undoubtedly helped to speed things up ― Draco cleared his throat.

“If you lot keep this up, I’ll never finish this tale,” he said, shaking his head as he spoke.

A few chuckles echoed around the room, but the crowd remained otherwise quiet, respectful of the fact that it was Draco’s turn to share his story.

“My story starts a little over three years ago, although, I suppose, in reality, it all started back when I was eleven.”

Draco briefly fell silent and recalled the moment he’d first set his eyes on Harry. They’d both been in Madam Malkin’s robe shop.

Back then, he’d had no idea who that boy had been, but something had drawn him in, something had made him want to start a conversation. He’d tried his hardest to make a friend, someone to make life at Hogwarts a little less lonely, but things had backfired epically.

Harry’s rejection had stung.

Up until that point, he’d never felt like that, and the hurt of it all had made him bitter and determined to make Harry feel as miserable as he possibly could. In that regard, things had blown up in his face, and he’d most definitely taken his retaliation a little bit far―

Draco abandoned that trail of thought and focused back on his speech.

“You see, I actually met the love of my life while getting fitted for my school uniform, though I didn’t realise it at the time. In fact, I didn’t realise it until he, sixteen years after we first met, ambushed me in my favourite coffee shop in the heart of Notting Hill. In hindsight, I should have seen the signs, I mean, he was always quite obsessed with me, and I with him, I suppose. I most definitely had my suspicions when he stalked me for an entire school year―”

Light laughter and a series of chuckles reverberated around the room and Draco grinned in Harry’s general direction.

“Oh yes, Sir, I most definitely noticed,” he said.

Yet more chuckles echoed around the room, and a few people whistled.

“Anyway, let’s fast forward to one warm spring afternoon some three years ago. I’d just escaped the stuffiness of my office and was nose-deep in a thick stack of important documents in preparation for a trial. It’s quite dull work; tedious, repetitive, and at times very much sleep-inducing. Most people in my position leave that sort of work to their legal secretaries and work with the notes they get. That’s not my work ethos, it never has been. I do the dirty work as well as all the pretty stuff, but I’m not here to talk about the merits and demerits of putting people in prison, therefore, moving on… So, there I was, practically curled up in my favourite armchair by the window, drinking way too much cappuccino, taking notes, and occasionally allowing the mindless chatter around me to stop me from questioning my career choice. It was right about then that he walked in, a completely unexpected blast from the past, except he didn’t look anything like the tired teenage boy I’d last seen when we were both seventeen.

“He looked like an Adonis straight out of the pages of some boring Greek mythology tome. I, of course, didn’t allow myself to admit that until a few weeks later. That happened right around the time I could no longer ignore the fact that I wasn’t strong enough not to think about him. It was then that I finally caved and admitted to myself that he had, once again, found a way to get under my skin. For good. There was just something about him. An irresistible pull, perhaps? I couldn’t get enough. I didn’t want to get enough. He had me hooked, and I went back for more time and time again.”

Draco paused there and smiled fondly.

The first time Harry had gotten under his skin was when he’d turned down his offer of friendship. Back then, Draco hadn’t been able to handle that sort of rejection. Aged eleven, and under the heavy influence of his father, he’d been desperate for a friend. Sure, there’d been his fellow Slytherins but what he’d always wanted, even long before he’d received his Hogwarts letter, had been a friend, one true friend to last him a lifetime. That day in Madam Malkin’s something, an inner voice had told him that he’d found that person. Of course, he’d been too young to recognise the feeling for what it had been, but he’d followed his instincts either way.

He glanced at Harry, and a soft chuckle escaped past his slightly-separated lips.

Oh, how things had changed ― for the better.

What Harry and he had now was a million times more memorable than the simple friendship he’d chased after some nineteen years ago. Theirs was a unique bond, built on trust, communication, love, and the mutual respect for each other’s boundaries. It was more than he’d ever hoped to find. It was everything.

“You see, things started out quite innocently. There were coffee dates, lunches, several dinners, and face-to-face conversations that lasted hours. It when then that I, for the first time in my life, really got to know the boy I’d once gone to school with. I got to know the man he’d become, the person behind the mask. He’d always been a sassy one, though I still firmly believe that he’s no match for me. Needless to say, Sir very much disagrees. We occasionally try and settle that disagreement through play where I give him the impression that he’s right and I am wrong, but I always refute it all a few hours later. It’s a never-ending game of push and pull which we indulge in with wild abandon.”

A ripple of chuckles reverberated through the room and Draco paused to take a breath.

“Anyway, I’m reaching way too far ahead. Let me back it up a bit. So, there was this incredibly witty and knowledgeable man, someone with a heart of gold, yet an inherently wild disposition and firm core beliefs that complimented mine in more ways than I dared to imagine. It didn’t take long for me to notice a side of him, I’d never seen before. On top of those ridiculous good looks and being the perfect gentleman, taking charge seemed to thrill him. At first, I didn’t think much about it. Instead, I kept telling myself that he’s a bossy man. I also simply put it down to his work, but eventually, I found myself having to reconsider the whole thing. There was more to it all, considerably so. It wasn’t just taking charge that seemed to thrill him, no, that all came naturally to him. It was obedience that really seemed to do it for him, willing and consensual submission. The way he looked at me whenever I caved and submitted to his command, I’d never seen anything like it, but it completely intoxicated me. I know now that he held back, seriously held back, but even the little that he gave me? Well, it wasn’t long before I craved more and more, though I still didn’t think much of it. The shoe seemed to fit, and damn, it was one hell of a comfortable shoe.

“I didn’t know the first thing about BDSM then. I’d heard the acronym before, knew what it stood for. But that was the extend of my knowledge of the subject. Of course, there’d been some kinky sex along the way, but then again, these days I’m no longer sure if you can call a pair of metal cuffs and a few toys ‘kinky’ but, I don’t judge. Kink and let kink. Anyways, the things I’d indulged in didn’t even remotely come close to the stuff I enjoy now.

“I vividly remember the first time he really took charge. We weren’t even doing anything kinky, and it was still very much a vanilla setting, but I melted, I simply melted. I didn’t know how to resist him; I didn’t even want to try. It was a combination of things that got me; the way he spoke, the way he looked at me, and the way he touched me. He unlocked something inside of me then, set me free to be the person I was always meant to be.

“Given Sir’s true skillset, looking back, I finally understand just how much of his true self he held back. He fought extremely hard not to terrify me. Yet, the more dominance he exerted, however gently and subtly, the more I found myself craving it, needing it, wanting it, desiring it, and dreaming about the next time I might get the chance to let him take the lead. I lapped it all up. I wanted more, I wanted everything, yet I couldn’t understand why he was, seemingly, keeping me at arm’s length. You see, not even a vulgar proposition, a blatant invitation for him to bend me over his desk and have his wicked way with me, while we were having lunch in his office made him lose his cool―”

“That’s what you think!”

Harry’s interjection cut Draco off, and he couldn’t help but laugh heartily. Laughter bubbled up from deep inside of him, and it was infectious enough for the crowd to chuckle along.

“Now he tells me that it took every ounce of his self-control not to pounce on me, yet that afternoon he had me practically begging him for it, and he still held back, gave me nothing more but a fiery snog before sending me on my way, feeling more confused than ever.

“I remember talking to an old friend about it not long after, and said friend, an ex, gave me the distinct feeling that he knew much more than he let on, but he left me to figure things out on my own, told me it would be better, in the long run. I wanted to curse him, but he was right, I had to work things out for myself―”

Draco paused for a moment.

“I’m talking about my feelings here, folks, not the intricacies of the lifestyle. I very much didn’t figure that out on my own. For that, I had all the support and then some, and Sir don’t you for a moment think I didn’t notice that time you checked out the kink books on my coffee table and thought I wouldn’t notice.”

Amused chuckles echoed through the room.

“Of course, you noticed, he wanted you to,” Charlie piped up.

Draco threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s what they all say, Dragonlord.”

“What a lovely nickname, I wholeheartedly approve.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Weasley, if you don’t shut up, I’ll get Harry to use some duct tape to keep you quiet.”

Yet more amused chuckles reverberated around the room.

Charlie laughed, and Draco watched him place a protective hand on Liam’s shoulder, squeezing it ever so gently. In response, Liam leant into his touch and Draco couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful non-verbal interaction between his friend and his partner.

“He wouldn’t dare, he actually respects his mentors.”

Draco grinned lopsidedly.

“Perhaps, but he’s also your brother and as such everything goes.”

“Darn.”

Several people in the room laughed, and Draco delighted in how well Charlie was able to pretend that he was thoroughly put out when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Don’t worry, our little snake doesn’t bite. His Sir trained him well, I can attest to that,” Caleb came to Charlie’s rescue, who merely huffed in response.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Reid, I do bite, and there’s absolutely nothing Harry can and will do about it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve got his full support.”

Draco looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow at him, using his body language rather than actual words to get Harry’s reassurance.

Harry laughed.

“Caleb, as much as I love you, I’m afraid I will absolutely take Draco’s side. You have no idea what sort of moody brat he’s capable of turning into if I don’t.”

Caleb chuckled.

“That’s what impact play is for, my dear Harry, turns any brat into an obedient little pet.”

Draco snorted with laughter, then resolutely took control back.

“Ah Reid, that’s only true if said brat isn’t a masochistic one, then you’re just giving them exactly what they want.”

Caleb chuckled.

“I see, someone did his homework. Well done, Drake.”

Draco smiled.

“I’m exceptionally good at doing my homework, Reid, always have been.”

He paused for a second and blinked. The room remained quiet, expecting him to go on.

“I still vividly remember the day Sir finally sat me down and told me the whole truth. He’d been testing the waters, allowing me to dip my toes into submission, yet making sure that I was, at all times, in complete control of the situation. He introduced me to the concept of a safeword long before he confessed his love of kink to me. He always put my safety first and never did anything without my consent, and so when he finally told me, or rather showed me, I was nothing but intrigued. He spent months piquing my curiosity and so when it came down to it, all I could think about was that I’m safe with him and happily gave him precisely what he wanted.

“From that moment on, I was hooked. I wanted more. I wanted everything. The most important lesson my job ever taught me was that the difference between losing and winning a case is whether you do your research well or whether you leave things up to chance. I’ve never been the sort of person to leave anything up to chance, which may make you wonder why I chose to give up control rather than exercise it, but for me, play is so much more than the thrill of submission. It’s watching Sir’s face and seeing him enjoy having me at his mercy. That kick―”

An electric jolt zapped down his spine, and as it pooled low in the pit of his groin, filling him with mild arousal, Draco couldn’t help but lock eyes with Harry, who gave him a smug Slytherin smirk. It only stimulated Draco further and swallowing hard, he closed his fingers tightly around the frayed piece of rope in his hand, toying with it to distract himself from the effect, Harry had on him. A deep breath helped him regain his composure, but he couldn’t help thinking about Harry’s ropes. He felt their snug embrace and his fingertips itched. Unconsciously lifting his hand up, he rested it at the back of his neck and rubbed the tip of his thumb against the rope. Pleasant vibrations surged all through his torso and Harry arched an eyebrow at him. An amused smile flitted around the corners of his mouth.

Draco reciprocated with a smile of his own, and for a split-second, he averted his eyes, then he inhaled deeply and focused his attention back onto finishing his speech.

“Sub Frenzy,” he said, speaking with conviction, his voice clear and steady.

“A phrase you often hear when a person that’s very new to the lifestyle becomes very excited and proceeds with minimal caution, self-concern, compromised emotions and impaired judgement in an attempt to make up for lost time. I felt just like that, a child in a sweetshop. The more I read, the more intrigued, and at times terrified, I got. Now that I knew what the lifestyle meant to Sir, I so very desperately wanted to make him proud and show him that I could be exactly what he wanted me to be. It took several very long conversations for me to realise that I was what he wanted, kink or no kink and that pushing myself past my limits wasn’t going to melt his kinky heart. Instead, he made sure that I read, asked questions, went to Munches, and gradually learnt about my wants, desires, needs, and limits.

“The health of my body and mind was of utmost importance to him. He never once allowed me to dive into anything without having all the facts. Sure, he teased, occasionally played a bit dirty, the old dog, but never once allowed me to do anything without informed consent and caution―”

At this point, thundering applause interrupted Draco, and he watched as several people rose from their seats and clapped loudly; a few even whistled, and vocally praised Harry.

Draco smiled and glanced at Harry, who looked somewhat uncomfortable at having ended up on the receiving end of some unwanted attention. Taking it in his stride, Harry reluctantly stood up, turned to face the audience and gave a slight bow. For a moment, the noise level became somewhat unbearable, but the moment Caleb placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled, the room fell silent. Harry took his seat and threw one leg over the other. He rested his hands in his lap and Draco, unable to look away from him, toyed with the piece of frayed hemp rope in his hand.

He allowed a few moments of silence to pass, then brought the microphone back up to his lips and resumed his speech.

“On Sir’s behalf, thank you. His ability to control how much we played gave me the time to really understand my submissive side. With his support, I learnt that wanting, no needing, to give up control, is neither a sign of weakness, nor does it mean that I’m needy and unable to take care of myself. Quite on the contrary, I’m actually quite independent, always have been, but I do like giving it all up. For Harry. Casual play isn’t my thing. I need the emotional connection, I need love, I need intimacy, and the knowledge that the person I’m with truly knows and understands exactly how to hurt me without hurting me―”

Draco paused and hesitated for a few moments.

Before tonight, he’d spent an entire month writing his speech for Caleb’s Mystery Speaker Show. After burning several hundred attempts, and getting dangerously close to having a nervous meltdown in Harry’s study, he’d finally come up with the right words, something to pay homage to the way Harry treated him and showcase their love for each other. He’d practised his speech day in and day out for well over a week but the moment he’d stepped out onto the stage and opened his mouth, he’d started improvising. So far, the words had poured out of him, and the crowd’s active engagement had spurred him on, pushing him to speak from the heart and share intimate thoughts and feelings. He was sure that he’d mostly kept things light-hearted, but right now he couldn’t make up his mind about how to proceed.

He dithered for another few moments, then took a deep breath, pushed the air right down to the pit of his stomach and held it there for a few seconds before slowly letting it go.

“―to hurt me how I want to be hurt without hurting _me_… The marks he leaves on me are marks of love, a testament to how much he cares about me, not signs of abuse. The last three years opened up an entirely new world to me, a world that taught me that there isn’t just one way to be confident. I’ve made some truly incredible friends, and through kink, I gained a family, the kind of family I once was convinced I’d never have again. Over the past three years, kink has helped me to deal with a plethora of demons. It’s even helped me become more successful at work. I found a way to escape all the stress and pressure of everyday life. But I’m doing it without actually turning my back on my problems and running away from them.

“I found someone who loves me so unconditionally that thinking about it literally takes my breath away. The mistakes of my past are just that, the mistakes of my past. He doesn’t hold them against me, doesn’t judge me for them, but offered me a clean slate, a fresh start. I’ve found someone who knows exactly how to break me, how to make me fall apart so completely that I couldn’t possibly tell you the difference between up and down and left and right. But at the same time, he also knows how to put me back together, how to make me whole again and the way he does it, the rush he gives me along the way, I don’t want to go without it ever again.”

Draco paused once more. An avalanche of memories rushed through his brain, and the more he allowed them to run rampant, the more he could feel his eyes well up. They burned with unshed tears and feeling emotional, he trembled slightly.

“I want it all, for the rest of my life,” he said quietly, feeling a single tear run down his cheek.

He made no attempt to wipe it away and chuckling softly, he shook his head. He looked towards Harry and shot him a lopsided grin.

“See what you’ve done to me? Turned me into a complete softie.”

Harry’s response to those words was to get to his feet and climb up onto the stage. He wordlessly wrapped both his arms around Draco. Although Draco wasn’t typically one for public displays of affection, he snuggled into Harry’s embrace. His speech all but forgotten, he held up his left hand, making sure that the precious stones of his engagement ring caught the spotlight still focused on him, and now also Harry, then lifted the microphone to his lips.

“Turns out, Doms will occasionally also kneel for you,” he said loudly and clearly.

Roaring cheers boomed through the room, peppered with whistles and loud praise.

To Draco’s utter astonishment, Charlie and Caleb carried the most giant birthday cake, he’d ever seen, onto the stage and placed it in the centre of the table, one of the club’s DMs had carried out.

It was a six-tiered cake, coated from top to bottom in Slytherin green icing and an elaborate silver snake, that could just as well pass for a long string of uncoiled rope, slithered all around it. Its head rested at the very top, and its black beady eyes had a strangely curious expression to it.

Draco tried his best to digest the unexpected surprise but found himself distracted when Stefan and Liam joined Harry, him, Caleb, and Charlie on stage. Stefan handed him a genuinely massive bouquet of deep red long-stemmed roses.

“Those are from Harry,” he whispered.

Draco reluctantly peeled himself out of Harry’s embrace and tried his best to wrap his arms around the bouquet roses. He nearly dropped the microphone in the process, but thankfully, Harry’s Seeker skills were anything but rusty, and he caught it before the expensive equipment hit the floor. For a moment, Draco could have sworn that Harry had used magic to slow the microphone’s fall, but he shook his head and resolutely abandoned that particular train of thought. Even Harry Potter, Director of the Auror Department and Assistant Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn’t stupid enough to use magic when there were about one-hundred pairs of Muggle eyes on them.

Instead, Draco buried his face in the roses, and closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, allowing the intense scent to intoxicate him.

When he looked up again, Liam presented him with a second bouquet of flowers. However, he was sensible enough not to offer them to Draco but place the arrangement of light blue calla lilies, red carnations, yellow alstroemerias and white and orange gerbera daisies down on the table next to the cake.

“Did you plan this?” Draco asked quietly, looking directly at Harry.

Harry smirked.

He shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

“I have my ways of making sure my little prince’s privacy remains protected.”

Draco shook his head from side to side and chuckled.

“You’re impossible, Potter.”

“I’m also head over heels in love with you.”

The words gave Draco pause, and staring at Harry, he gulped.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

Harry smiled.

“Good, your birthday gift is waiting for you at home, sweet one.”

“What is it?” Draco asked, his curiosity piqued.

Harry had already given him a few presents, and he wasn’t expecting anything else.

Much to his dismay, Harry merely shook his head.

“Not telling, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Draco was about to stick out his bottom lip and pout, but before he could do just that, Harry placed his hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Unable to resist the feel of Harry’s lips, Draco surrendered, and despite still holding on to the oversized bouquet of roses, he managed to move a bit closer to Harry, who wrapped his other arm around him and hugged him tightly.

“Tonight, my little prince, tonight, I’ll blow your mind, I promise you that,” he whispered after slowly breaking away from the kiss.

Draco felt him hook a finger around the tight rope running along the back of his neck. Harry tugged on it, and letting out a slight moan, Draco, for a moment, struggled to keep his balance. Harry’s words had filled him with intense anticipation, and although he was dying to know what Harry’s plans were, he knew better than to ask. It was of no use. Harry was excellent at keeping secrets and never gave himself away, except when he did it on purpose. For this very reason, Draco resigned himself to the fact that he had to wait to discover whatever surprise Harry had prepared for him. Still, he couldn’t quite resist the temptation to push a little.

“It’s my birthday, don’t I at least get a little hint?”

Harry laughed.

“Nope, you don’t,” he said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Sadist.”

In response, Harry firmly tugged on the harness, causing the ropes to cut deep into Draco’s skin, reminding him precisely of who was in charge.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed a complaint.

“And what if I am, my little prince?” Harry teased him.

Draco smiled.

“It was worth a try.”

Harry chuckled.

“So long as you’re careful about how much you try…”

Draco grinned.

“Don’t worry, I know exactly how far I can push you.”

Harry laughed.

“Correction, my little prince, what you know isn’t how far you can push me, but how far I let you push me. Big difference.”

Draco sighed.

“Fine, you win, but only because I let you.”

Harry flashed him a broad grin.

“Sure,” he said.

His voice carried the kind of amused undertone that instantly let Draco know that Harry was thoroughly enjoying having been allowed to wind him up.

“Seriously, it’s been three years. Are you two quite finished flirting like you’ve only just had your first date or must I get a crop to encourage you to grace us with your attention? We’d like to celebrate your anniversary properly.”

Caleb butted in and surprise momentarily forgotten, Draco turned his head and looked at Harry’s mentor, friend, and a man, he’d come to respect immensely.

“Does that crop come with a private playroom?” he asked.

Beside him, Harry laughed out loud.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him and smiled with amusement.

“Kinky,” he said, “I approve.”

Draco winked at him.

“That’s how you like it best, isn’t it, Reid?”

Caleb laughed.

“Absolutely.”

He reached for a bottle of expensive champagne and opened it with practised ease.

“Let’s celebrate.”

* * *

* * *


	41. Yours, Forever - Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some separation anxiety, I've finally managed to complete the last chapter, and it's time to share it with the world. Thank you so much for your patience while I wrote this, and I'll see you in Part 3, eventually. It'll be a separate, stand-alone, multi-chapter story, which I'll start at one point or other. But first, there are are few WIPs that require my attention.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter. I think it's something that a few of you were waiting for this since Draco first brought it up.
> 
> Your comments and thoughts are most welcome, and I will get around to replying to them very soon.
> 
> Love,  
Selly
> 
> P.S. Chapter-specific notes can be found at the end. Warning, they do contain spoilers so be mindful of that if you scroll down prior to reading the chapter.

* * *

* * *

The sound of the front door falling closed behind him seemed, somehow, louder than it had ever before, and when the wards activated in response to it, Draco shuddered at the sudden onslaught of the powerful magic. He felt rather than heard the clicking of the lock, and in order not to let anticipation overwhelm him, he straightened up, slightly shifting his body weight from his left foot to the right as he did so.

Usually, Draco didn’t stop twice to think about the intricacies behind the delicate and ancient spell work that kept Grimmauld Place running.

Tonight, however, it was all he could focus on, yet the very last thing he cared about.

Harry had, quite deliberately, kept him in suspense for the last few hours, refusing to give him even just the smallest hint, and Draco was excited beyond measure. He’d racked his brains all evening, imagining every possible scene, Harry might have planned for them. No matter what he’d come up with, something deep inside his gut had told him that he was wrong and that he couldn’t possibly guess what sort of gift Harry had prepared for him…them.

They were home now, and Draco instinctively knew that he wouldn’t have to wait for much longer to find out exactly what Harry had tucked away up his sleeve. Draco pressed the tips of his fingers firmly against the palms of his hand, balling them up tightly to somehow try and contain all this nervous energy that flowed through his veins and refused to settle down.

It didn’t matter how many deep breaths he took to try and ground himself; the anticipation refused to subside.

When Harry, who’d entered the house first, after leaving him hanging for several moments, finally turned around to face him, an enormous burst of excitement surged through Draco. It travelled down the entire length of his spine and pooled low in the pit of his groin, subtly lingering there, reminding him of the effects Harry’s dominance had on him. Shifting ever so slightly, Draco idly wondered whether Harry had, somehow, and with a wandless non-verbal spell, managed to turn up the temperature in the house.

He felt hot and was on the verge of starting to perspire.

Wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, Draco pressed them tightly together to contain the small gasp that attempted to escape from the depths of his chest.

He stubbornly swallowed it back down, refusing to give up all control just yet. Instead, he focused and made Harry the centre of his attention. He watched with intrigue as Harry casually leant back against the sturdy and decorative wooden bottom baluster of the staircase that led up to the second floor of the house. A memory of Harry using a single coil of rope to tie him to that very pillar before teasing him endlessly―and until he’d seriously struggled to remain upright―flashed through Draco’s mind.

He shuddered.

Harry’s mildly amused grin grew into a positively predatory smirk, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Draco instantly knew that Harry had read his mind, not with the help of magic but simply because he knew him that well.

To Harry, he was an open book.

Always, and especially in moments like this.

Moments, when his endorphins were running high and the tension in the room―or in this case, the entryway―was thick enough for either Harry or him to slice through it with a knife.

The pure deviousness that shimmered brightly in Harry’s emerald-green eyes sent another zap of excitement through Draco. Charged, it surged through him and added to the bubble of arousal that floated through his nether regions, determined to keep him on the very edge of sanity.

Acutely aware, and feeling thoroughly alive, Draco instinctively became mindful of the fact that it wouldn’t take much before that small orb of pure and raw energy decided to transform itself into a spark.

A spark that was bound to set every inch of him on fire, driving him into an entirely different headspace, one that mostly existed in his subconsciousness and only came out to play in moments like this.

Draco couldn’t stop the quiver that swept through him.

He was about to shift from his right foot to the left when Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

That subtle little gesture stopped Draco in his tracks.

He all but froze and looked directly at Harry.

A low chuckle, pleasant to the ears, left Harry’s slightly parted lips and reverberated through the hallway.

For a moment, Draco wondered whether he could hear the ticking of the kitchen wall clock but unable to focus on the sound―it drew his attention away from Harry―he abandoned chasing after that random train of thought.

Silence settled over them both and Draco wanted to beg Harry to put him out of his misery, to just get on with it, but while the words clearly formed in his brain, his vocal cords refused to flex, and his lips remained motionless.

A soundless sigh travelled through him, and although he tried to force himself to relax, he wasn’t entirely successful in his endeavour. He was no longer able to fully control his anticipation. Instead, he chose to surrender to the sensations, allowed them―and Harry―to guide him through the night.

He was ready; ready to just be, ready to let someone else decide.

“Shoes off.”

Harry’s sudden order didn’t surprise Draco in the least and crouching down, he carefully untied and loosened the laces of his elegant black Oxfords, then stepped out of them. Without needing to be reminded, he placed the shoes neatly beside the door to the walk-in wardrobe beside the front door and straightened up again.

“Jacket too.”

Draco felt a subtle smile tug at the corners of his lips and simultaneously gave in to it and shrugged out of his jacket. He reached for the walk-in wardrobe’s door handle, turned it, and pulled the door open, then briefly disappeared inside. The light turned on automatically and stepping closer to the open-plan wardrobe, Draco reached for a velvet-covered hanger. He placed his jacket on top of it, and as he moved, he felt the rope harness, Harry had tied around his torso much earlier that night, move against his skin. The sensations briefly gave him pause and stalling for a few seconds, he momentarily closed his eyes and relished in them.

As his smile grew substantially larger, Draco slowly opened his eyes again and placed his jacket on the hanger, making sure that it was neat and straight. He turned on his socked heels and walking back out into the hallway, he closed the door to the walk-in wardrobe behind him.

In his absence, Harry hadn’t moved.

Not even an inch.

He still stood at the bottom of the staircase, and he was still leaning back against the baluster, patiently waiting.

Upon Draco’s return, he chuckled.

It was a warm, bubbly sort of laugh and the sound of it travelled towards Draco. He felt it wrap around him and hummed under his breath in response to its softness.

“What has you this amused, my little prince?”

Draco smiled and shifted.

The harness smoothly moved with him, and Draco felt the tips of his fingers itch. He desperately wanted to touch the rope that so snuggly sat at the back of his neck, and it cost him every ounce of self-control to resist the temptation.

To distract himself, he thought about the rope burns, he’d be left with once Harry decided to take the harness off.

A sudden and intense desire to see himself in the mirror and admire Harry’s marks flared up in the centre of his chest and unwilling to control it, Draco let it consume him.

He properly revelled in it, and when Harry motioned for him to come closer, he obeyed without hesitation.

The moment he stepped up to Harry, standing close enough to feel Harry’s steady and warm breath―he smelled of rich chocolate and subtle hints of fine scotch―ghost over his lips and cheeks.

Harry slowly uncrossed his arms and placed one hand on Draco’s shoulder, squeezing it firmly.

Welcoming the touch, Draco tilted his head slightly to the side and huffed out a breath of air. He felt Harry’s finger slide underneath the rope, that lay exposed at the back of his neck, and curl around it.

A quick and insistent tug followed.

Draco put up zero resistance; he saw no point in it.

This was precisely what he wanted.

He rather willingly moved closer to Harry and felt Harry’s other arm slither around his waist. Harry’s hand rested low on his hip, and Draco welcomed the possessive squeeze that followed. Even with the fabric of his trousers between his skin and Harry’s hand, Draco relished in the feeling of Harry’s fingers digging into his skin, claiming him.

“Well, tell me, my little prince.”

Draco smiled.

“It’s the ropes, Sir,” he whispered, “I randomly remembered the harness while I was putting my jacket way.”

Harry chuckled in response.

“Did you now, my love?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hm, well, I take it you’re all too happy to keep the harness on for just a bit longer?”

“I am, Sir.”

“Excellent. I hadn’t planned on taking it off just yet; however, I do think that you’re entirely overdressed for the occasion, don’t you think, my little prince?”

Draco hummed.

“If you say so, Sir.”

Harry’s soft laugh echoed through the hallway.

“Is my little prince feeling a bit feisty tonight? Come on, let’s take this upstairs, shall we?”

Draco lowered his head in silent agreement, and when Harry gave the rope harness another gentle tug, he moved to follow him up the stairs. He climbed the stairs slowly, always staying one step behind Harry, not because Harry demanded that he did but because he liked the visual expression of his submission to Harry. He loved to both see and feel that Harry was in charge.

As they reached the first landing, the lights in the downstairs hallway extinguished themselves. In their stead, the lights on the second-floor corridor flickered to life. Once they reached the second landing, the magic of Grimmauld Place doused those too and bathed the third-floor hall with a soft golden hue that fell from the pearl light bulbs mounted to the old crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Harry lifted his free hand and snapping his fingers, he waved them into the general direction of the hallway’s main light source. As they climbed the stairs all the way up to the fourth floor, the light on the third floor continued to illuminate the corridor that led to the large en-suite bedroom, Draco had shared with Harry for the past two years. Harry’s and his bedroom had become an anchor to him, a place he called home. Inside it, Draco felt like he truly belonged. He felt loved, secure, understood, valued, and cherished.

Draco only glanced back for a second, then focused his attention on climbing the stairs. The last thing he wanted was to stumble and send both him and Harry falling over each other’s feet. A random memory of a time not so long ago―he’d stupidly decided to carry so much laundry that he hadn’t been able to see the stairs in front of him―popped into his head, and just as he and Harry reached the fourth-floor landing, a low chuckle escaped his parted lips. He’d tried to swallow it down but hadn’t quite managed.

Harry turned his head and arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

Draco just grinned and shook his head.

“No matter, just a random memory,” he mumbled.

Harry smiled.

His eyes filled with intrigue and curiosity.

“Care to share?”

Draco shrugged.

“Remember that time I tumbled down half a flight of stairs?”

Harry nodded.

“Oh yes, I did tell you not to grab all of the dry clothes all at once, or at the very least use a levitation spell, but you decided that you knew better.”

He smirked.

The look in his eyes was one of pure deviousness, and Draco couldn’t help but wonder whether his decision to remind Harry of that afternoon and the epic way he’d managed to embarrass himself, had been a good idea.

_Too late now_, he thought.

“That purple bruise on your arse looked rather sexy, although I still regret that it wasn’t me who put it there.”

Draco grimaced.

Harry had just given him his answer. He most definitely shouldn’t have shared. All he’d done was to walk himself right into a trap.

_Blasted Slytherin_, he thought, _they are so much worse when they hide in plain sight_.

He’d all but forgotten about the massive contusion, he’d managed to give himself. Sitting down had hurt quite a bit. The pain had actually driven him to transform the desk in his office into a standing one for about a week. To help heal the bruise, Harry had offered him a salve from the apothecary, but with both his ego and his pride hurt, Draco had rejected the offer. Somehow, it had made sense then, but now that he thought about it, it didn’t really seem logical.

“Did you have to remind me?” he grumbled.

Much to his dismay, Harry laughed.

“You brought it up first,” he said.

“I beg your pardon, Sir, but that’s not quite true. My brain brought it up, I had nothing to do with it.”

Harry continued to laugh.

Turning around, and with his eyes twinkling with unabashed amusement, he stepped closer, forcing Draco up against the bannister. He placed his hands on either side of Draco’s body and took another half-step forward.

Draco found himself effectively trapped between Harry’s firm body and the old-fashioned handrail and the unforgiving wood dug into the small of his back. He sucked in a sharp breath and held on to it for a few seconds, then gradually released it.

“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve already lost control of your thoughts, my little prince?”

Harry whispered the words against Draco’s lips, making him shiver. Harry’s warm breath made them tingle and tickle.

Draco instinctively ran the tip of his tongue over them to smooth over the sensation.

“No, Sir,” he breathed.

Harry pulled back a little and crooked an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled.

“Just being cheeky then, my little prince?”

Draco couldn’t entirely stop the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Harry had inadvertently given him his little finger, and Draco really wasn’t above taking the whole hand. It was precisely what he did, though not always.

“Perhaps,” he murmured.

Harry laughed.

“Most definitely being cheeky. Be careful, now, I may just decide that your final birthday surprise is a sound spanking.”

“My arse is all yours, Sir, I’m sure we’ll both enjoy every smack.”

Harry smiled.

“I own more than just that sexy arse of yours. You are all mine, my little prince.”

And just like that, Harry had managed to change the mood of the moment entirely. His words sent a shudder through Draco, and he bit his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth to gnaw on it. He felt Harry’s hand cup his cheek, and without stopping to think about it, Draco tilted his head sideways to lean into the touch. He watched as Harry brought his lips closer and allowing his eyelids to slide shut, Draco released his bottom lip the moment he felt Harry place his thumb across his lips. Harry’s breath was hot against his pale skin and Draco only barely managed to contain the small whimper that threatened to travel up through his chest and escape. Instead of kissing him, which was what Draco really wanted, Harry’s lips ghosted over his cheek, then pressed against his ear.

“You’re mine, Draco Malfoy, all mine. Never forget that. I own every inch of you, you know that and we both know that you get off on it.”

Harry’s hand left his cheek, and when it squeezed his half-hard cock through the fabric of his trousers and briefs, Draco succumbed to the moan, he’d so desperately tried to hold back. Harry’s touch had drawn it out. Some small part of Draco’s mind suspected that he could have held back, shown a sense of decorum, but fighting the effects of Harry’s possessiveness was something Draco wasn’t interested in.

“That’s mine, too, my little prince. All of you is. Mine. So, let me give you a bit of advice, birthday boy. Decide for yourself exactly how cheeky you’d like to be tonight because we both know that I will retaliate and you may just find yourself suspended from that harness I put on you while I edge you until the sun comes up. Since it’s only just gone midnight, you’ll be begging me for at least five hours, if not longer.”

Draco’s knees buckled in response to Harry’s threat, and he curled his toes, digging them into the thick and soft carpet beneath his feet. A large part of him eagerly wanted to give in and sink to the floor, but Harry stood too close. There was no space for him to drop to the ground. He had no choice but to find the will to remain upright. The images, Harry’s words had painted in his head, all but consumed him and he couldn’t come up with a single, sassy comeback.

For a moment, silence settled over them, and Draco fought hard to try and control his mind.

All he could think of was Harry. He imaged him barefoot and topless, wearing his favourite pair of washed-out blue jeans, and standing in the centre of the playroom, admiring his handiwork. Those blasted jeans―Draco loathed and loved them―always sat low on Harry’s hips, looking like they were about to slip down Harry’s legs. The mere thought of them filled Draco’s head with a series of erotic images and suggestive fantasies. His subconsciousness derived way too much pleasure from teasing and tormenting him, and Harry knew precisely how to set it off.

Whereas Draco had once said no to ropes and suspension at the same time, he was gradually warming up to the idea. They’d yet to try full-on suspension, but they’d certainly practised to their hearts’ content with Harry tying his arms together and then connecting them to a thick bamboo rod suspended from the playroom’s ceiling. Harry hadn’t fully lifted him off the ground but had placed enough tension on the ropes for Draco to struggle with his balance. He’d been forced to slowly acquaint himself with placing his trust in the ropes and believe that they would hold him up. Harry had reassured him over and over, letting him know that he was safe and that he had nothing to worry about.

Since that day, a thick ball of want and desire had taken up permanent residence in the centre of his chest, and right now, Draco could feel it thrum to life. Deep down inside he knew that Harry would never drop him in the deep end, would never fully suspend him without giving him more time to get accustomed to the sensations―he wasn’t the irresponsible kind―but a small part of Draco craved the thrill of it. The idea of being utterly vulnerable, open, and entirely at Harry’s mercy, thoroughly excited him.

He felt electrified.

A rush of intense longing surged through him, and he sighed softly.

He felt Harry replace his thumb with his lips and the kiss that followed was soft, tender, and full of promise.

Draco melted into it, willingly giving himself over to Harry. He let him have it all.

He didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, but by the time Harry broke away, he was somewhat breathless and his lungs burnt, demanding oxygen.

Draco inhaled deeply and slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust his vision.

Harry’s smile captured him, anchoring him in the moment, and he reciprocated it.

“Soon, sweet one,” Harry whispered, “tonight, however, I want to give you a special treat.”

Draco smiled.

He wanted to ask for more details, but right now, words weren’t his strongest ally, and he happily settled for silent contentment.

“Would you like to join me in the playroom, my little prince?”

Draco hesitated for a few seconds.

Not because he was unsure about his response, or what he wanted, but rather because his brain was all fogged up. Nodding his head came easier than giving Harry a verbal affirmation, yet that was exactly what Harry wanted. He wanted words, and while Draco understood the importance of him saying the words, he struggled to concentrate and therefore took longer than usual to answer the question. He blinked a few times and taking a deep breath, Draco gathered up the very last shred of his sanity and grasped it tightly in his hand.

“Yes, Sir,” he said, pleased that his voice sounded steady and determined.

He hadn’t expected it to.

Harry huffed out a warm chuckle.

“Come with me then, sweet one.”

Draco didn’t make much of an effort to focus after that. He just about managed to remember how to put one foot in front of the other without stumbling and losing his balance.

He followed Harry the short distance down the corridor, and they stopped in front of the closed door to the playroom.

Unlike all the other times, Draco had watched him unlock the room, tonight Harry didn’t use the golden key, he usually kept in the top drawer of his nightstand. Instead, he placed the flat of his hand against the solid black wooden door and applied a tiny amount of pressure. He mumbled the incantation of an intricate unlocking spell, then, using the tip of his index finger, drew a series of invisible, ancient runes onto the door.

As if on cue, the lock clicked, and the door opened.

Harry pushed it fully open and stepped into the room.

Draco moved forward but didn’t step across the threshold. He let his hands dangle at his sides and waited, patiently, until Harry turned around. The soft golden hue of warm candlelight illuminated him, and the softness of his smile melted Draco. Gentle music reverberated through the room―Draco identified a resonant and drifting harp, a crisp and clear panflute, a dark and throaty acoustic guitar and the sweet, round, and rich notes of a grand piano―and drifted out into the hallway.

Draco exhaled.

“You planned this,” he whispered.

Harry smirked.

“Of course, I did, my little prince. Come in, tonight you don’t need to ask for permission.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then forced the nervous energy inside of him to give him a brief respite, and taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room and approached Harry. The latter cheekily enticed him to move into the centre of their playroom by taking a few steps back.

Guided by a gentle swoosh of Harry’s hand, the door closed and the lock clicked, and Draco curiously looked around the room. It looked nothing like it usually did. For starters, gone was all the red.

Most of the room’s furniture was covered with shiny, high-quality black satin sheets, instinctively leading Draco to believe that Harry hadn’t brought him up to the room for a scene. Several old, imposing silver candle-holders stood dotted around the place, filled with thick white candles. Surrounded by all the blackness, the warm flicker of the flames was an arc of brilliant gold. Without a draft to disturb them, the tiny fires burnt steadily. Their peacefulness filled Draco with a sense of calmness, and he continued to take in the room.

Shiny silver sheets covered the bed on the far side of the room, and strong vines with luxurious white roses climbed up the frame of the bed, winding themselves around each bedpost, and slithering through the bed’s bondage hooks and suspension rings.

The room’s intense mood sent a shiver through Draco, and he shifted.

“Harry,” he whispered.

Harry smiled, then shook his head.

“Hush, my love. Just do as you’re told.”

Draco bit his bottom lip and nodded.

Harry lifted his hand and Draco felt the pressure of his thumb, stopping him from worrying his lower lip before he could even get that far.

“Do you trust me, my little prince?”

Draco didn’t even have to think about the answer.

It fell from his lips in an instant.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry rewarded him with a kiss, then told him to close his eyes.

Draco obeyed, and standing perfectly still, he waited.

He felt Harry’s fingertips slowly trail down the line of buttons of his shirt and gasped when he realised that Harry had used a non-verbal wandless spell to undo the buttons. Next, Harry dragged the hem of the tailored shirt out of his trousers.

The moment the shirt was free, it slipped off Draco’s shoulders and pooled at his wrists. Harry took it from there and removed it, then loosely closed his fingers around Draco’s wrist. Draco felt the familiar pressure of Harry’s thumbs against the pulse point on the inside of his wrist and sighed contently.

Harry kissed him on the lips, lingering there for a few seconds, then dotted a line of butterfly kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck. In response, Draco’s sigh turned into a faint moan, and he shifted ever so lightly, adjusting his stance.

“I love you, my little prince.”

Harry whispered the words against the side of his neck, and Draco shuddered. The warmth of Harry’s breath against his pulsing jugular and the pleasant vibrations of his low and husky voice released a series of small quivers that rippled through Draco, and when Harry’s well-trimmed beard scratched his sensitive skin, he gasped. Harry gently moved his hands behind his back and bending his elbows, he slowly pushed them up, moving into the position required for a TK box tie. This meant that Harry stood extraordinarily close and was hugging him tightly. Draco relished in the warmth of Harry’s body. He melted into the embrace and let it consume him.

“Good boy, how is the harness? Still all good?”

Draco’s first response was to nod his head, but before Harry could click his tongue to voice his disapproval, and possibly bite his earlobe to remind him of the rules, he remembered to use his words.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

While he couldn’t see the smile on Harry’s face, Draco could feel it against his cheek and lightly pressed into the touch.

“Mine.”

_Yes, yours, always yours_, Draco thought in response to Harry’s possessive growl. He shivered, and when Harry pulled back, he remained in precisely the position, Harry had put him in. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry had taken a step or two back, but before he had the chance to miss him, he was back. Draco felt Harry’s hand rest on top of his belt buckle. He tugged on it, then used both hands to undo it. He slowly pulled the sturdy leather belt out of each belt loop.

A moment later, Draco heard the leather snap. He concluded that Harry must have folded the belt in half and pulled it tight. A shudder surged down Draco’s spine. The sound always terrified him. Out of all the impact toys, Harry kept inside the playroom, he reserved the belt for punishments and mild fear coursed through Draco’s veins, causing him to freeze for several seconds.

Despite his masochistic tendencies, he hated the belt with a passion. There was absolutely nothing he liked about it. Its sound reminded Draco of past punishments, and whereas the faint smell of a riding crop’s leather tress filled him with desire and had him sink to his knees, the belt terrified him through and through.

Sensing his discomfort, and to reassure him, Harry pressed the flat of his hand against Draco’s cheek and leant in to kiss him.

Draco instinctively moved into Harry’s half-embrace, drawing strength from him.

“Good boys don’t get the belt, fear not, my little prince. Good boys get all the love and all the kisses.”

Harry’s whispered words of comfort instantly relaxed Draco and his mild bout of panic dissipated and disappeared.

A few seconds passed, and Draco felt Harry’s nimble fingers work to undo his trousers. They popped the top button and dragged the zipper down, then tugged the snug-fitting slacks down his legs. Draco waited for the material to pool at his ankles, then elegantly, and without losing his balance, stepped out of them, allowing Harry to remove his socks while he was at it. He felt the tips of Harry’s fingers run up the entire length of his legs and shivered, anticipating Harry to grasp his hips firmly.

Harry didn’t disappoint.

On top of squeezing his hips possessively, he also tugged on the ropes. They cut into Draco’s skin but not through it, and gasping, Draco moved ever so slightly to adjust to the sensations.

“All good?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry’s finger slipped underneath the hem of his boxer briefs, and a second later, a perfectly executed non-verbal wandless _Diffindo_ sliced through the fabric of Draco’s underwear.

Draco shuddered.

Poorly cast, that spell had the potential to slash through one’s skin, but since being in control came easy to Harry, remaining focused and channelling his magic, even without the use of a wand, wasn’t something Harry struggled with. Draco couldn’t help but admire Harry for that. He supposed that at this stage, he ought to be used to Harry’s skills, but it was moments like this when Harry did things like that and surprised him. Ordinary, the idea of anyone coming anywhere near his skin with the sharp blade of a knife, let alone the powerful, and occasionally volatile, nature of a Severing Charm, made Draco want to run a mile.

But this was Harry.

And Harry, he trusted.

Always.

Explicitly.

Whatever fear Harry instilled in him, it was all calculated, measured, and Harry never lost control of it. He had a tight grip on it, knew exactly how to challenge it, and never let it slip from his grasp and transfigure itself into an unruly ball of energy. The push and pull of Harry’s domination, the calculated and exquisite execution of it, filled Draco with the almost unquenchable desire to sink to his feet and bow his head.

He wanted Harry to truly see his submission and indulge in it.

In response to his thirst, Draco felt his knees buckle ever so slightly. His legs felt weak and like they were seconds away from giving in, but when Harry gave his severed boxer briefs a firm tug and pulled it out from underneath the rope harness, Draco’s thoughts were instantly drawn to the intensity of that sensation.

“Not just yet, my love,” Harry whispered.

Draco felt him cup his cheek and tilted his head to the side to push into the touch.

“Open your eyes, my little prince, look at me.”

Harry’s request was one Draco didn’t know how to resist. Nor did he want to hold out against it.

He blinked and slowly opened his eyes.

Harry gave him a cheeky wink.

A smile spread across his lips.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous. Holding up, OK?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir. I’m a bit cold though.”

Harry chuckled.

“Ah, yes, the predicament of being completely naked, dressed only in my ropes, and brimming with excitement, eh? Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we now, my precious little prince?”

Before Draco could answer the rhetorical question, Harry gently snapped his fingers, then swooshed his hand lightly, and a cocoon of warmth wrapped itself around Draco, embracing him like the radiating warmth of a cosy blanket. The spell lingered for several seconds―just long enough to seep through his skin and into his veins―then flared out and flooded the room, raising its temperature to a fare more comfortable level. The candle flames flickered momentarily, then stilled, and continued to gradually eat away at the pure white wax that surrounded the braided cotton wick.

“Better?” Harry asked.

“Much,” Draco said, inclining his head a bit.

“Good, now, be a good boy and wait here. I need to fetch your gift.”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat, and when Harry kissed him, before stepping away, he milked it for every second, Harry willingly gave him. He felt Harry’s fingers comb through his loose locks and revelled in the firm tug to his harness. The ropes tightened all around his chest, burning him in the best possible way. Draco welcomed the snug embrace and the vibrations that resulted from Harry running his fingers along the rough hemp.

A moment later, however, the teasing touch was gone, and Harry stepped away. Draco pressed his lips together to stop himself from letting out a low sigh. Instead, he watched as Harry finally shrugged out of his own jacket. He folded it neatly and placed it over the armrest of the broad leather sofa across from Draco. It, too, was covered with a large, black satin sheet.

Harry waved his arm and summed all of Draco’s clothes from where he’d scattered them on the floor, then folded them slowly and with the utmost precision. He was doing it on purpose, Draco knew that much, but he said nothing, didn’t protest and didn’t intervene. He wanted his surprise, was dying to find out what it was, but inside this room, Harry made all the rules. He was in charge, and Draco knew from experience that no amount of begging was going to get him anywhere. Well, it usually amused Harry and enticed him to tease him even more, but it hardly ever convinced Harry to take pity on him and show him any kind of mercy.

Once he’d ordered all the clothes, Harry turned back to face him, and with a genuinely devious smirk, he dragged a small three-legged table from behind the heavy floor-length curtain beside the sofa. From what Draco could tell, it was made of high-quality polished ebony. Harry lifted the piece of furniture, Draco had never seen before, off the ground and carried it over. He placed it in front of Draco, whose eyes were immediately drawn to the flat, square, black velvet-covered jewellery box in its centre.

The box was larger than the box his engagement ring had been in and unable to resist the twitch in his palm, which extended out through his fingers, Draco flexed them, then clenched them into a tight fist. He dug his nails into his skin and hissed at the searing pain that shot up his arm. Uncurling his fist somewhat, he stared at the box and gulped. The case was decidedly larger than a ring box but not big enough for a collar.

A bout of nervous energy surged through Draco, and he curled his toes to resist the urge to shift his weight from one foot to the other. He stared, swallowed hard, and blinked several times. It took him everything he had, and then some, to force his eyes away from the box, and with his lips slightly parted, he looked straight at Harry.

A wicked glint of pure deviance sparkled in Harry’s eyes, and he smirked.

“Care to hazard a guess?” he teased.

Draco shook his head.

He didn’t think he had any words left inside of him.

He was baffled, and wave after wave of uncontrollable anticipation rolled through him, each one bigger and more forceful than the one before it.

He parted his lips a little further, licked them with the tip of his tongue, and stood perfectly still.

Harry watched him for the longest time, and just when Draco thought he might not be able to take it anymore, he finally spoke.

“Kneel for me, my little prince.”

The words hit Draco with such force that he felt just a little dizzy. He widened his stance by an inch or two, and unlocking his knees, he bent them slowly and gracefully sank to the floor. He did so without utilising his arms to keep his balance, and once he was firmly settled on the ground, he sat back on his haunches, then straightened his back to lengthen it. He also set his shoulders and adjusted the position of his arms slightly, making sure they stayed precisely as he wanted them. Instead of lowering his gaze, and even though he was tempted to do so, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Harry, looking up at his face and watching his every move.

Harry smiled.

“Good boy.”

His praise caused Draco’s heart to expand, and he felt it swell inside his chest to accommodate the sense of pride that filled him.

Harry stepped a little closer and loosely placed his hand on top of the mysterious jewellery box. His other hand found its way underneath Draco’s chin, and he grasped it firmly, tightly, possessively. Draco relished in the dominating gesture and smiled softly. He felt the tip of Harry’s thumb caress his cheek and blinking, he let the love, he felt for Harry, consume him, burning like wildfire through his very core. His magical core pulsed deep inside him and a flush of warmth flooded from the centre of his chest through his entire body.

“The last three years have been somewhat of a rollercoaster, haven't they, my little prince? If you ask me, we've built something incredible together, something I never ever hoped to find, but always wanted. You've shown me, time and time again, that you trust me, absolutely and unconditionally, and bared your soul to me to prove it. In return, I bared mine to you. I stand here today before you because I want you to know that I love you, deeply, truly, and madly, with every fibre of my being. For this reason, I wish to pledge myself to you for all eternity, though not as your partner and future husband, but as your Dominant, as the one person, you can always rely on to give you exactly what you need and desire. I wish to guide you, continue to explore the world of kink with you, and continue to push your boundaries with the promise of placing your safety, and mental, and physical wellbeing above all.”

Harry’s words pierced through Draco’s chest, and he gasped as the realisation of what was about to happen dawned on him. He blinked and felt his eyes fill with tears. They stung, but he resolutely held them back, unwilling to cry just yet. He was quite sure that he wouldn’t be able to control them for every long, but for the moment, he wanted to at least appear calm and collected.

“Throughout this journey together, it's been my honour to see you grow into your role and experience a different kind of happiness. It's been a privilege to love, nurture, guide, and earn your trust and respect. As your Dominant, I promise to always love you. I promise to hold you when you're feeling down. I promise to wipe your tears away when you're feeling sad and to care for you when you're feeling sick. I promise to make you laugh daily and to safely guide you through your submission, where I know you feel most free and at ease. I promise to continue to educate you, respect your boundaries and always put you first. In the world, you matter the most. So, tonight, if you agree with me, I wish to claim you as my submissive, and with your consent, I want to make you mine, eternally.”

Draco’s heart stopped beating for a second or three. He held his breath, and even though he’d been convinced that he would last longer, he felt the tears spill over the rim of his eyes. The hot salty liquid ran down his cheeks, and he briefly closed his eyes. Harry wiped his cheek with his thumb and bent down to kiss him. Draco savoured the kiss, clinging to Harry without moving his hands, and when Harry crouched down in front of him, he buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck and let out a wretched sob.

“Hush, you’re safe here with me, my little prince.”

Harry whispered reassuring words into his ear and reached around him to squeeze his hand.

“I’m right here for you, my love, always. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

Draco sniffed, then frowned at his crude reaction to Harry’s words.

“I want to, there’s nothing I want more,” he murmured.

Since he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head, his words were muffled, and he wasn’t sure whether Harry had even heard him, but when Harry gently ran his fingers through his hair, Draco knew that he had.

“Look at me, my precious little prince,” Harry said, his voice low and his voice soft.

Draco took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head. He blinked and focused on Harry. The warmth of Harry’s eyes, and the soft smile that played around the edges of his mouth, teased a smile from him.

Harry leant in and kissed his forehead.

“May your mind always be free from stress, and whenever it isn’t, or your find yourself clouded by troubles, may you turn and lean on me. I’ll be there to protect you.”

A finger landed on Draco’s lips, and he felt Harry trace first his bottom lip, then the top one.

“May you never feel like you need to hide anything from me, or throttle your natural disposition to be sassy. Never fear to speak the truth, always tell me what you desire, what you need, and what frightens you, I’ll always listen. Follow my rules, obey, and submit but never let that change who you truly are, my little prince. My most prized possession, the one I love the most in this world.”

Draco puckered his lips lightly and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of Harry’s finger.

Harry smiled, then dropped his hand down to Draco’s heart, pressing the palm of his hand firmly against his chest.

“May your heart always be filled with the knowledge that you are never alone in this life, and the reassurance that you’ll always be cared for, cherished, loved, protected, desired, wanted, and needed. Sir's right here with you and will be for as long as you, my little prince, want me to be, preferably for all eternity. While, as your Dominant, I may not always walk beside you, let me assure you that I won't take a single step without knowing that you'll follow me. I promise you that I’ll never hurt your heart and none of the marks I place on you will ever be permanent. Any pain you receive from me shall be because you sincerely desire it. It shall always be consensual and given to you with love, never hate and never in anger. I wish to bind our souls, to have us walk this earth together, as one. You are mine, little prince, and I love you.”

Draco let out a stifled sob.

His heart ached with the love he felt for Harry, and he didn’t know how to express his feelings appropriately. A fresh wave of tears spilt over the rim of his eyes and this time, Harry, instead of wiping them away, leant in to kiss them away.

“I know, my love, I know,” he whispered.

Draco exhaled softy and relaxed.

As he did, he felt Harry reach around him and take both of his arms. He gently eased them out of their unsecured TK position and pulled them from behind his back, massaging first his forearms, then his upper arms, to stimulate blood flow. Draco’s arms tingled, and he flexed his fingers, then curled them a little. Harry finished his gentle massage, then took his hands and squeezed them gently.

“May your hands always intertwine with mine, for these are hands that fill me with joy. Know that even though I may tie your hands, I will never forbid you to touch me. Know that my hands are here to lead and protect you, to hold you when you need it most and bring you both pain and pleasure in equal measures. Know that my hands will never unjustly punish you, deny you the loving touch of my aftercare, or the reassuring feeling of a safe embrace. Know that my hands will only derive pleasure from hurting you for as long it’s what you desire and consent to.”

Harry’s hands tightened around his own and Draco relished in the firmness of Harry’s grip. He felt Harry’s thumbs brush against the pulse points on the inside of his wrists, felt them draw those familiar circles and smiled.

_Home_, he thought.

“My little prince, do you consent to bind yourself to me for life?”

Draco swallowed.

“I do, Sir.”

Harry smiled.

“Do you consent to submit to my authority, serve me, obey me, and promise to always be loyal to me, your Master?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Do you consent to accept your punishments with grace when you’ve made a mistake and strive to do better next time?”

Draco inclined his head.

“I do, Sir.”

“Do you consent to always treat me with respect and honour my authority as your Dominant in public, at events, and in the privacy of our own home?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Do you consent to my guidance, promise to never stop educating yourself and accept me as your protector?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Swear to me.”

Draco thought for a moment, gathered his thoughts, and sorted through his feelings, then took a deep breath.

“I swear that I’ll always be your faithful and loyal submissive, to honour you, respect you, and let you guide me, teach me, and protect me. I promise to trust you, obey you, and accept you as my one true Master. I desire your pain, your pleasure, your love, the safety of your embrace, and the comfort of your words. I swear to love you for all eternity. I, Draco Malfoy, will always be your little prince.”

Harry smiled in response to those words and leaning in, he placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s cheek. He lingered there for several seconds, and Draco pushed into the touch.

“Mine, all mine, forever mine,” Harry whispered.

He pulled back, and Draco felt him squeeze his hands firmly.

“I have a little gift for you, my love,” he said.

Draco watched, silently and with bated breath, as Harry reached for the black velvet-covered jewellery box.

He mumbled a complicated incantation to open the tiny lock at the front, and the lid sprung up.

Draco’s first reaction was to gasp, then his eyes filled to the brim with tears, and he struggled to see clearly. He blinked furiously and focused on the stunning, hand-made bracelet inside the case. The single silver O-ring, twisted to resemble a coil of endless rope―a representation of eternity―caught his eyes first and he felt his bottom lip quiver. To the O-ring’s left, and its right, precious metal, silver in colour, wrought into the shape of a triskelion. Six brilliantly shimmering emeralds, three on each side, sat, snuggly fitted, inside the three lines radiating from the centre of each triskelion. Despite the dim light in the room, the precious gems sparkled brighter than the sun, and Draco blinked.

Speechless, he stared at the bracelet―the metal and the gems matched his engagement ring perfectly―and swallowed hard.

“Harry,” he breathed.

He tried to bring himself to say something else, but he was completely awestruck. He’d wanted a collar for the better part of the past year, but what with his senior position within the Wizengamot, anything more than a simple necklace, perpetually hidden underneath his prosecutor’s robes, wasn’t possible. And despite that, Harry had still managed to find a way to give him exactly what he wanted, a physical representation of his desire to bind himself to Harry, something that allowed him to pay tribute to Harry’s and his D/s relationship.

The engagement ring―everyone knew what that meant―but this, this was special, and somehow, it meant the world to Draco. It was something between them, yet at the same time, those familiar with kink would know exactly what it represented. He belonged to Harry forever. Harry had claimed him as his own; any Dominant, or submissive, would know that.

Driven by the sudden and unquenchable desire to feel the priceless piece of jewellery beneath his fingertips, Draco dragged every ounce of his willpower to the surface. It helped him to clear his head enough to ask a simple question.

“Can I― Can I touch it, Sir?”

Harry chuckled.

“But of course, it’s yours, my love.”

Tentatively, and just a little scared that he was dreaming all this, Draco extended his hand and placed his fingertips on top of the bracelet. Initially, it was cold to the touch, but the moment his skin connected with the precious metal, it warmed and send a jolt of magic through him.

Shocked and surprised, Draco pulled his hand away. His fingers tingled, and he flexed and curled them.

“It’s charmed,” he whispered, staring at Harry with his eyes open wide.

Harry nodded.

“Of course, it is, I had Liam place the charms on it, they are quite intricate, thought it best to let a professional do it.”

Draco felt mildly tempted to roll his eyes but resisted the urge. Harry was quite the accomplished wizard with exquisite skills and in-depth knowledge of complicated spells and some ancient magic.

“Nearly all the charms are protective in nature, except for one, a special kind of locking charm.”

Draco crooked a curious eyebrow at Harry, then glanced down at the bracelet.

“Once you activate the charm, the clasp disappears for good.”

Harry inclined his head.

“Correct, my little prince. There isn’t a single unlocking charm in the world that will make it reappear, and it is resistant to magic, too. So, if you want it off, the only way for me to break the magic is to use a plain Muggle metal cutter.”

Draco inhaled sharply and held his breath for several seconds.

“For that reason, I want to ask you one last time, if you consent to take this oath. It’s a permanent bond, and neither you nor I will be able to remove the bracelet, at least not with magic. Once either one of us cuts the bracelet, the promise is broken for good.”

Draco smiled softly.

He reached out and placed his hand back on top of the bracelet, caressing one of the emeralds with the tip of his index finger. It pulsed with magic, felt warm to the touch, and sparkled brightly and with determination.

“I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want this, Sir. Please, make me yours.”

Harry wordlessly leant in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Draco savoured every second of it, smiling into it.

When Harry pulled away, he withdrew his hand from the bracelet and offered Harry his wrist. In response, Harry reached for the bracelet, carefully lifted it out of its box, and placed it around Draco’s wrist. It fitted perfectly, wasn’t an inch too loose or too tight.

“With this special collar, I make you mine, my little prince.”

Harry fastened the clasp with expert precision, then placed his index finger on top of it.

“Ready, my love?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

Harry smiled.

He pressed the tip of his finger firmly against the clasp, pressing it into Draco’s skin, and closing his eyes, Draco felt and listened rather than watched as Harry mumbled the incantation to activate the locking charm. It was an ancient spell, one Draco had never heard before, but some of the words were familiar. Many wizards and witches, mostly from the old pureblood families, chose to use them in marriage ceremonies. While the younger generation preferred more modern customs, bond rituals had never gone out of fashion and Draco didn’t expect them to do so any time soon. In magic, traditions were everything.

Just as Harry finished reciting the spell, an intense jolt of forceful magic surged through him and melted into his own magical core. Draco’s eyes shot open, and he stared at the bracelet. It burnt hot under Harry’s touch, and his skin prickled, yet he instinctively knew that the charm wouldn’t leave a single mark.

The sensation only lasted for several seconds, then it died off, and as Harry pulled his hand away, the bracelet sat snuggly around his wrist. The clasp was gone and, in its place, the precious metal was smooth and shiny. Draco touched it gently with his other hand. As before, the bracelet was warm to the touch. It thrived on his own body heat and the protective charms, Liam had cast upon it, drew their strength from him, negating the need to have them renewed at regular intervals.

“I’m yours,” Draco whispered, in complete awe of what had just happened between Harry and him.

Harry chuckled softly.

“You’re mine, indeed,” he said.

With those words, he opened his arms wide, offering Draco an embrace. Draco, without the slightest hesitation, fell forward and curled into Harry’s arms, allowing him to engulf him completely. He closed his eyes and allowed his emotions to take over. They consumed him and feeling safe and secure in Harry’s arms, he let them. Harry held him tight and soothingly stroked his back. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry was also removing the rope harness from around his torso but made no move to protest. Instead, he shifted gently, making it a little easier for Harry to loosen the rope.

“Yours forever.”

“Yes, my little prince, mine forever.”

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Takate Kote a.k.a. TK"](https://www.kinkly.com/definition/9865/takate-kote-rope-bondage) is a type of box tie that's very common in Shibari bondage. The link will give you a bit more information. It is **NOT** suitable for suspension and in the chapter, Harry doesn't actually use any rope to tie it, but he makes Draco place his hands in that position.
> 
> Here's a photo:  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/49926464331/in/dateposted-public/)  
The actual tie doesn't include any decorative knots, but the rigger who did this piece of art, decided to add those in, personal preference.
> 
> Also, here's a photo of Draco's eternity bracelet (a.k.a. "collar"):  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/49926299321/in/dateposted-public/)


End file.
